Silent Night
by Queen of Crystallopia
Summary: SEQUEL TO PAINT IT BLACK. Peter Parker was rescued from Hydra's clutches, but not without great cost. Tony Stark and the Avengers must now work desperately to find a way to remove the alien parasite, Venom, from the teenager before it consumes him entirely, Peter struggles to fight against his dark descent, all the while Hydra lurks, eagerly waiting to reclaim their investment.
1. Away in a Manger

**Summary: SEQUEL TO PAINT IT BLACK** **. Peter Parker was rescued from Hydra's clutches, but not without great cost. Tony Stark and the Avengers work desperately to find a way to remove the alien parasite, Venom, from the teen before it consumes him entirely, Peter struggles to fight against his dark descent, all the while Hydra lurks, waiting to reclaim their investment.**

 **A/N: Guess who's back? :) Hello, ladies and gents! Remember when I said I was taking a break from writing over the holidays and that I would start on the sequel next month? Yeah...that didn't happen. I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who left a review on Paint it Black, whether you stuck with me from the beginning or jumped in late! I was overwhelmed by your support and kind words! So, as a Christmas gift, I thought I would start posting my sequel early.**

 **So yes, if you haven't read Paint it Black, this story probably won't make any sense to you. Go read that first!**

 **This takes place almost immediately after the last chapter of Paint it Black, and also happens to be set around Christmas time! So the title of this sequel, as well as all of its chapters, will be named after Christmas carols, following my trend of naming the previous story's chapters after classic rock songs.**

 **I hope to update at least once, maybe twice a week as the time allows, but I appreciate your patience in advance if the holidays prevent me from posting.**

 **Without further ado, I give you, Silent Night!**

* * *

 **Chapter One: Away in a Manger**

 **Clint Barton**

One of the worst parts about being locked up in this hell hole? The inability to tell just how much time has passed.

Our meals are delivered to us sporadically, carefully avoiding any kind of repetitious pattern that might give away what time of day or night it is. The assholes in charge must have thought it would be best if we knew as little as possible, if we were kept as isolated from the outside world as they could manage, or maybe they just wanted us to suffer more. I didn't really care.

All I knew was that it had been far too long.

And every day, every _minute_ that passed, whether I was able to count them or not, was a minute of my children's lives that I was missing.

I'm lying on the cot in my cell, the scratchy, charcoal gray blanket crumpled up in a ball on the floor, the flat, white pillow bunched up beneath my head. My hands are resting atop my chest, rising and falling as I keep my breathing even and rhythmic.

Will Nathaniel even remember me?

He'd just turned one when I got thrown in here. Young enough that he may not recognize me by the time I get out. If I ever get out. I probably missed his first steps. He'd been so close to walking when I got the call from Cap. Is he toddling all over the house now? Tearing things off the bookshelves or pulling out the dishes from the cupboards every time Laura's back is turned?

Cooper was getting into everything when he was that age.

Is Cooper still struggling with his math? Is Lila still jealous over the attention the baby was getting?

Does Laura hate me for choosing the losing side in that battle, and consequently causing her to lose her husband, and the kids their father? She should. If she doesn't, that's just fine. I have enough hate for the both of us.

Not that I regret the side I chose. I just regret what it cost my family.

My silent musings are suddenly, harshly interrupted by a voice from the cell next door breaking out into song.

" _Nobody knows the trouble I've seen_..."

My eyes snap open, my face twisting in an annoyed scowl.

" _Nobody knows my sorrow_ …"

"Hey!" comes a second voice, laced with irritation. "What have we told you about the singing?"

"Aw, come on, guys!" Scott Lang protests. "I'm going crazy in here. You gotta give me something."

"We did give you something. We gave you clear rules about your damn singing. So shut the hell up," Sam snaps from further down.

"How come no one yells at Clint when he sings?"

"Because Barton has the voice of an angel, which he chooses to use very sparingly. _You_ have the voice of a cat that's been smoking cigarettes for nine years before being run over by a car. _Twice_ ," comes Sam's sharp reply.

"Jesus! What the hell is wrong with you?" Scott exclaims, and I hear him move closer to the front of his cell.

"Did you seriously just ask me that?" Sam's voice is incredulous. "Do you not _see_ where we are? Or is this some kind of vacation for you, trapped in this floating shit hole with the Avenger's former finest?"

Scott lets out a snort of derisive laughter. "Finest. Yeah, ok. Sure, man. Yeah, this is an effing dream come true for me, surrounded by my idols, the most _impressive_ of the Avengers. I am just so unworthy. You know, if I recall correctly, and I _do_ , I kicked your ass that day at the Avengers compound. I think someone's pride is still a little wounded."

"Kicked _my_ ass?"

"For the love of god, _please_ don't start again," I say finally, interrupting as I hear Sam's sharp intake of air, no doubt ready to rip Scott a new one. My hands reach up to rub my temples. How am I thousands of miles away from my family and _still_ having to play the role of a parent? God, not even my kids argued like this.

Although to be fair, my kids have never been imprisoned in small cells in the middle of the ocean with only each other to talk to.

"He started it," I hear Scott mumble as I push myself up and swing my legs over the edge of the cot until I am perched on the edge.

From my angle, I can't see Lang's cell at all, and only half of Sam's down to the left on his other side. The man is leaning against the wall of his cell close to the barred glass, his arms folded over his blue clad chest. He is glaring daggers at Scott, who is no doubt responding in kind.

Idiots.

Ross could have at least had the kindness to keep us all separated so I didn't have to put up with this shit.

My eyes find Wanda's cell directly across from mine, and my stomach sinks.

She hasn't moved from where she sits curled up in the corner, her head leaning against the wall, her long, dark hair forming a curtain around her face and spilling over her shoulders to partially cover the belts of the straightjacket crisscrossing over her chest. From what little I can see of her face, she is staring blankly at the opposite wall, lost in thought.

Wanda hasn't spoken in a long time. Weeks, if I had to guess.

In the beginning, I'd tried to keep her spirits up as much as I could. I was wary of my words, not wanting to give any information that could be used against us to the bastards running this joint, but I'd kept her entertained with stories of some of the places I had seen, or told her about all the things she should do or see when we got out of here.

She'd even opened up to me more about Pietro.

* * *

" _He always thought of himself as the older brother," Wanda had said in her heavy accent, a small smile still laced with grief. "Like being twelve minutes apart counted more like twelve years."_

 _"He was a good man," I'd replied, my insides tight with guilt and sympathy. "A good brother."_

 _"He was," she'd agreed, her large eyes glassy and wet. "Pietro always said that_ I _was the stronger one, that if anything happened to me, he'd go mad from the grief of it. But that I would find a way to go on if something were to happen to him, because I was a fighter. He told me I was a fire too fierce, too forceful to be put out."_

 _Tears had broken free to slip down the hollows of her cheeks, and the devastation in her eyes had nearly crippled me._

 _"He was wrong."_

* * *

I watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath the monstrosity of the bonds constricting around her body. Rising, I make my way to the barred glass wall and lean against it, one arm pressed against the barrier above my head. I am torn between heartache and horrible rage at the sight of her caged like this. Broken.

"Hey kiddo," I call softly. She had stopped responding to me a long while ago, but I didn't stop trying. Couldn't stop trying. "Wanna give me a hand, here? These morons aren't listening to me. Maybe if you tried, they would finally shut the hell up."

Her eyes don't even twitch in my direction.

"How's your singing voice?" I try again. "I'd bet good money yours would put all of ours to shame. Come on, I bet you know some great Sokovian lullabies. Might even put Scott right to sleep, save us the trouble of asking the guards to drug his food again."

"Very funny," Scott shoots back half heartedly.

Nothing.

Wanda just blinks, just breathes, just stares at the gray and white metal wall.

Goddamn it.

Damn the Accords. Damn the U.N. and Secretary Ross and everyone who had a hand in creating them. Damn Stark and Vision and all those other bastards who let them lock us up in here. Who let them break her.

I hear Sam curse softly, and as I look over at him, his eyes leave Wanda to meet mine. His face is grim, angry, and I know he feels the same way I do. Scott sighs heavily in the cell between us and mumbles, "Sorry, guys. I'll shut up."

"It's about damn time," Sam replies. His voice is quieter, teasing, his mouth forming a smirk, and I can only imagine Scott is returning the look.

There's a sudden hiss and loud clank as the main doors to my right open. I turn my head to look as eight heavily armed guards, all clothed in head to toe black armor, save for a strip across their eyes so they can see, enter the holding cells. Two more follow behind them, pushing a metal cart laden with foam trays filled with bland, unappealing food.

Dinner time.

I step away from the barrier, putting my hands on top of my head and backing up into the corner like we are required to do if we want to eat, knowing Scott and Sam are doing the same. Wanda doesn't move, but she never does anymore, and the guards seem fine with it.

The soldiers all approach my cell first, raising their weapons as they move into formation around the door.

"Evening, gentlemen," I say. "What's on the menu today?"

"I'm going to guess the same pig slop they served us last time. And the time before that. Oh, and the time before that," Sam snarks from his cell.

The guards don't speak. They never do. Kudos to whoever assigned them here. Lesser men would have broken by now between Sam and I's continued verbal assault every time they come into the holding cell area. Scott usually tries to keep up with our quips and insults. Key word being tries. Bless his heart.

Wait a moment.

Something is different. Something has changed.

My sharp eyes zero in on a figure slightly shorter, slimmer than the rest in the center of the group. I narrow my gaze on the set of eyes staring at me from beneath the helmet and above the black material concealing the bottom half of their face.

I know those eyes.

Then one of them winks at me before all of the lights go out, and we are plunged into complete darkness.

Screams and shouts break out in the dark. There's scuffling, the sound of fists meeting flesh before several blasts of rapid gunfire light up the pitch black, briefly illuminating the silhouettes of the guards being utterly annihilated. Then the gunfire ceases suddenly, and everything disappears into darkness once again.

"What the hell is going on?" Scott shouts over the sounds of the fight.

There are several more slams and thuds, several more cries of pain, and then nothing. Nothing but silence and dark.

The lights flicker back on, and I am already surging to the front of my cell, my hands pressing against the glass. A lone guard stands in the center of the room, bodies and discarded weapons littered all across the floor.

The guard reaches up, removing the helmet and pulling down the black face mask.

Natasha Romanov smirks back at me beneath platinum blonde hair.

"Hey stranger," she says in her low voice. "What're you fellas in for?"

A grin stretches across my face. "Not a damn thing."

* * *

 **A/N: So it begins.**

 **I hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter! I know I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know your thoughts, and leave a comment down below! I can't wait to hear from all of you again. :)**

 **Huge thanks to PippinStrange, the world's best beta and an incredible writer, herself! If you haven't, head on over to her story, Down Came the Rain!**

 **Also! I am currently working on a fan art/poster cover for this story! If you'd like to see my progress so far, head to my instagram mscrystalbeard**

 **You guys, I can't tell you how much I LOVED writing Paint it Black. But if it's possible, I have been loving writing this sequel EVEN MORE! Like, oh my gosh, I am so excited for you guys to read it all! I have so many things in store for you. This is going to be an epic, Christmasy ride!**

 **Coming up: The downfall of Secretary Thaddeus Ross**


	2. Coventry Carol

**Chapter Two: Coventry Carol**

 **Thaddeus Ross**

Things are unraveling swiftly. Too swiftly.

Someone had gotten sloppy, left a trail for Stark and his bunch of renegades to track down the child's whereabouts and upheave everything.

I am getting too old for this.

I inhale deeply, swallowing against the burn rising up through my esophagus. Damn simmering rage does nothing to alleviate the painful, persistent fire burning in my chest and throat.

Billions.

Billions of dollars invested in the building of that facility, in the hiring of one of the world's greatest minds, and of enough guards and soldiers to protect him. Billions of dollars spent on the most innovative technology and equipment for Doctor Heinrich Muller to utilize in his groundbreaking experiments.

Billions of dollars gone, just like that.

Just as our careful plans were coming to fruition, just as we had finally achieved what had been promised to us so long ago

 _Gone_.

The only positive point in all this is that I am confident _my_ involvement with Hydra still remains unknown. It had been a close thing, when Stark and Rogers had broken into that Russian facility, and I was forced to make a hasty retreat with the other officials. But I had gotten out before they got wind of my presence, and there is nothing to link me there.

I let out my breath, straightening my tie and glancing out at the despondent view the window of the helicopter offers. A mass of dark clouds, heavy with pent up rain, hovers above an equally dark, writhing ocean, brutal winds chopping the waves and beating against the helicopter as we soar towards our destination.

Things are unraveling, but they haven't unraveled yet.

It is up to me to rectify this, to once again clean up Hydra's mess.

And I intend to do so, thoroughly.

"How much longer?" I raise my voice over the din of the helicopter.

"ETA is ten minutes, Mr. Secretary," one of the pilots shouts back at me.

Good. Time is of the essence. The Avengers have to be dealt with, to be silenced permanently. Far more than just my reputation is at stake here.

I will start with those I already have firmly within my grasp. Those imprisoned on the Raft have become a liability I cannot afford. Stark and the others had already rescued one of their own. I have no doubt that they will now come for the rest. They are ruled by sentiment, governed by whatever morals best suit them at the time.

Earth's mightiest heroes, indeed.

If luck is on my side, the teenager will keep Stark and the others occupied long enough for me to execute the first part of my plan.

Luck, however is a fool's notion. A man grounded in reality will prepare for every contingency, will take 'luck' in their own hands and forge their own outcomes.

Knowing the Avengers, they will be coming for their imprisoned associates swifter than I would like. So I will turn it to my advantage. When I am finished, the world will see men and women who believed themselves above the law staging a breakout to liberate convicted criminals. They will see the United States' Secretary of State stepping in to stop them, taking them down before they unleashed themselves to once again wreak havoc upon the world.

The Avengers will be dead, a team will be deployed to their compound in order to retrieve my very expensive investment, and the world will be none the wiser.

The helicopter jerks with violent turbulence as we begin to descend onto the landing platform. I glance down to see the massive doors part for us, the pilot lowering the bird into the hangar of the Raft.

Finally.

We land smoothly without the harsh wind battering against the side of the helicopter, and as soon as it touches the ground I am moving, ignoring the guard standing outside the aircraft, his arm outstretched to assist me.

I'm old, but I am no invalid.

I brush him aside, a formation of soldiers falling into step behind me after a salute and obligatory " ". The captain of this squadron moves to walk beside me, awaiting my orders.

"It's time," I tell him as we stride for the large double doors exiting the hangar. "Execute order F-437. Make it look like an escape attempt."

"Yes, sir."

We have to head for the control room first, where one of the soldiers will remain with me while I observe the implementation of my order to execute the prisoners. Then, I will oversee as the footage is deleted, all evidence erased to make it look like Stark tampered with the cameras in order to free his comrades.

Foolproof.

This mess will be cleaned up before the day is out.

I let myself have the smallest of smiles, the anticipation of my victory swelling inside my chest. A world without the Avengers...a world without chaos. My own brand of soldiers, obedient, powerful, without sentiment or self righteousness clouding their mindless, blind loyalty...starting with Peter Parker.

I round the corner, my steps determined as I push open the door leading to the control room. I step over the threshold and halt in my tracks.

Tony Stark is leaning casually against one of the desks lined with monitors, his arms, one covered in a thick brace, folded across his two men usually stationed here are nowhere to be seen.

"Mr. Secretary," Stark says coolly, his eyes boring into me.

Damn it. Damn _him_. They were faster than I had even anticipated. No matter. This can still be salvaged.

"Mr. Stark," I collect myself, straightening my spine. "Thank you, for saving me the effort of retrieving you."

I call over my shoulder to my guards, "Arrest this man, and lock him in one of the empty cells with the others."

Silence.

I frown, and Stark simply raises an eyebrow, waiting. Turning sideways, I glance sharply back into the hallway, shock seizing my gut at the sight of all my men unconscious on the ground. Steve Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes stand over them, clad in all black, their expressions dark and unruffled.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?"

Clenching my teeth, I turn back to face Stark.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demand.

"What we do best," he replies, his voice like steel. "Avenging."

"You have no idea what you're dealing with here, the ramifications your actions will cause. Do you think the United States government will stand for this? The United Nations? You sealed your fate by coming here, attacking me and my men, associating with known criminals. The world will demand justice," I tell him, lifting my chin.

" _We_ demand justice," Stark steps closer to me. "The world can wait its damn turn."

"What, exactly, do you think is going to happen here, Stark?" I take a step closer to him, refusing to be intimidated. "You break out your friends, you do _anything_ to me, and you go from being the earth's _mightiest_ heroes, to the world's most wanted fugitives. Those of you who don't already possess that title, that is."

I shoot a dismissive glance at Rogers and Barnes as they move in to block my exit. As if I would try to escape. "You have one chance, here, Stark. One opportunity that I suggest you take. You assist in the arrest and capture of Steve Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes, and I will forget about the fact that you collaborated with wanted fugitives and did not inform me of their whereabouts the minute you became aware of them. Decline, and you will be labeled a fugitive and a traitor, to be shot on sight."

"That's quite the generous offer, Tony," Rogers says from behind me, and I swear I can hear the smirk in his voice. "What do you think?"

"I think someone likes the sound of their own voice a little too much, and I'm not referring to myself," Stark replies easily. "That's gonna be a no on the offer there, Thaddy. Thanks, but no thanks. I have a better one."

His voice changes, just like that, from light and contemplative, to low and deathly serious. "You tell us everything you know about Hydra and their operations, you admit and confess to your involvement with a known terrorist organization and illegal human experimentation, and go to prison for the rest of your short, miserable life, or we end you, right here and now."

I stare him down, unwavering. "I don't know what you're talking about. Trying to pin your delusions on me will not work, Stark."

An unbidden chill descends down my spine as Tony Stark's lips curve into a small, satisfied smile, his eyes blazing. "I was hoping you'd say that," he steps back, the disturbing expression gone from his face, his voice back to its normal, arrogant pitch. "Fortunately for you, I don't have the stomach for hitting old people. I find it in bad taste."

Stark smirks at me. " _Unfortunately_ for you, my dark and broody associate here has no such qualms."

I whirl just as I see a flash of dark metal, and an unforgiving fist slams into my temple.

Everything goes black.

* * *

I awake to a fierce headache, the likes of which I haven't experienced in many years. It originates in the undoubtedly heavily bruised side of my face, and spreads like pulsing fire to the rest of my skull, my jaw, even my back. I'm somewhat surprised to be waking up at all from the blow I had received.

 _Bastards_.

I stifle a groan, gritting my teeth as I force myself to sit up and open my eyes. The lights are stabs of agony straight through my retinas into my throbbing skull. I blink my eyes until they are able to focus on my surroundings.

Typical. Stark was never one to shy away from dramatic irony.

"Cozy, isn't it?"

I look out through the barred glass barrier of the centermost cell they had thrown me in. Stark and Rogers stand beyond it, and behind them, I see every single one of the remaining cells are empty. Their comrades are nowhere in sight.

"You could have killed me," I say, rising with some effort, forcing my hands to remain down by my side instead of reaching up to cradle my aching head like they wish to do.

"Oh please, that was just a love tap," Stark scoffs. "If Barnes really wanted to kill you, he would have."

"You're really going to do this? You're really going to throw away everything you've built, just for these people?" I ask him, giving him a disappointed look. "I thought you were smarter than this, Tony."

"Let's cut the sanctimonious bullshit, shall we? I don't want to waste my time here," Stark replies. "We know you and Hydra have become fast friends, Thaddeus."

He's bluffing.

There is no trail, no link to me and Hydra. I had made sure of it.

Rogers stares me down. "Or should we say, Elias Eklund?"

I stare back.

Impossible. It was _impossible_.

"You really shouldn't have made Natasha Romanov your enemy," Stark says, his arms once again crossing over his chest. "You really shouldn't have made _any_ of us your enemies."

"It was an impressive cover," Rogers continues. "Probably would have fooled a lot of people. But Agent Romanov uncovered enough of your trail to have you convicted and imprisoned for life."

I was wrong before.

Things aren't unraveling.

They've already been unraveled.

"Why'd you do it?" Rogers eyes are disappointed, grim. "Why Hydra?"

A dark, bitter anger grips me in a rush of heat, making the pain in my skull throb even harder. "Just how many years have you been trying to save this world, Captain Rogers? How many years have the Avengers been trying to make it a better place, a safer one? How many innocents have you slaughtered in trying to do so?"

I shake my head, despite the pain, at his naivety, at his self-righteous ignorance. "You are nothing more than a bunch of _broken_ , hypocritical individuals with too much power in your hands. In trying to fix this planet, you are destroying it. The world will never be safe with you in it."

"So Hydra is your answer?" Roger shoots back. "Hydra, whose death count is far higher than the Avengers could ever manage. Hydra, who was willing to murder _millions_ of civilian lives for their so-called 'greater good'. For someone claiming to want to protect the people, you have a strange way of showing it."

"I do want to protect the people," I seethe. "From themselves. From the likes of you."

"And your response to removing enhanced individuals from the playing field is to create your own? Do you even hear yourself?"

"I am creating _soldiers_ , Captain. Dr. Abraham Erskine was a brilliant man, but he was a naive, delusional fool. We don't need super soldiers with hearts of gold. Men's hearts are easily corrupted by power. You've been a fine example of that. A general needs obedient soldiers, ones who will take orders without question, ones with unwavering loyalty, ones who will usher in an era of peace like the world has never known."

"So you chose a fifteen year old _child_ to become that soldier?" Stark speaks, his voice heavy with quiet savagery.

I level a look at him. "Don't pretend to be so righteous, Stark. You dragged him into this the day you gave him that suit."

"I didn't drag him into anything. That kid? The one you had strapped to a table and tortured? All he wanted to do was help people. Without any prompting from me, from any of us, he chose to hit the streets in nothing but glorified pajamas every day in order to make this world a better place. And you gave him to those monsters like it was nothing. Like _he_ was nothing," Stark steps forward, rage coming off of him in waves. "If turning a good kid like that into a monster is what it takes to protect the Earth, then maybe the world doesn't deserve to be saved."

"All you can see is the little picture. You are so blinded by your self importance, by the undeserved essentiality of those you deem worthy, you can't see what it takes to be a real hero. You can't make the hard decisions, you've never been able to."

"And _you_ are so blinded by your unattainable idea of peace, you can't see that in saving the world the way you want to, you will destroy everything that is good in it," Rogers replies this time, his voice like steel.

"It is unattainable," I give him. "But only because people like you keep getting in the way."

Rogers raises his chin. "Good."

Noble, egotistical bastard.

"Believe me, Stark," I say, moving closer to the barrier. "I get no pleasure from any of this, from forcing this heavy burden on one so young. But you said it yourself, he is an exceptional young man, and one ready to take on the responsibility of being a real hero. And that means making sacrifices for the greater good"

"God, I can't believe you can't hear how you sound right now," Stark scoffs in angry disbelief. He touches a hand to his forehead. "I'm honestly-I'm baffled. I knew you were a world class prick, but I had no idea just how deeply delusional you are. You really do deserve to spend the rest of your days in that cell."

There is no point in explaining myself to them further. They will not be swayed or made to see reason.

"You already have what you need to ruin me, to put me away forever. What else do you want?"

"I want names," growls Stark. "I want the names of every goddamn son of a bitch who had a hand in those experiments. I want to know everything you know about Hydra, which officials have been corrupted, where the remaining bases are, what other horrific plans you slimy bastards have up your sleeves."

Do they honestly believe that I will divulge everything I know about Hydra, just because they were clever enough to entrap me?

"You're wasting your time with me," I say, then look at Rogers. "What is their delightful phrase? You cut off one head-?"

"I'll cut off _something_ if you don't give me what I need," Stark replies shortly. "You've moved beyond the borders of my patience."

"You're being uncharacteristically barbaric, Tony," I observe. "If I had known the teenager would be the key to breaking you, I might have utilized him a long time ago."

I see the leash snap in his blazing eyes, and Rogers' hand shoots out to grip his shoulder before he can do anything too rash.

"Enough, Tony," the Captain murmurs, his expression icy where Stark's is pure flame. "He's not going to give us anything. We're done here."

Stark whips his head to the side to glare at him, his mouth opening to reply, when their eyes meet, and a silent conversation seems to pass between them.

Something in Stark's stance changes, the molten nature of his anger carefully reeled in and restrained to a simmering fire.

"You're going to wish you'd just given me what I wanted to know," he says when he looks back at me, a promise of something horrible flickering in his eyes. .

"I sincerely doubt that."

Stark smirks, but the expression is somewhat strained. "Enjoy your stint in isolation, Thaddeus. See you in hell."

My eyes narrow as he and Rogers turn, striding for the exit.

"That's all you have, Stark?" I call after him. "I expected more of your signature wit."

He flips me off over his shoulder, but doesn't turn back.

"You're a fool if you think this is over! Do you hear me, Stark? Hydra won't let go of their investment so easily, and I won't stay in here forever. You'll see."

Rogers crosses the threshold of the exit, followed by Stark, and just before the doors shut behind him, he turns and gives me a small, knowing smile, accompanied by a two fingered salute.

The doors slam shut with a resounding boom, and I am left alone.

I let my hands curl into trembling fists, my teeth grinding together as fury boils my blood, and then I allow it consume me.

I _hate_ them. Hate them with every bit of my being. Hate them for destroying everything I had worked for. Hate them because they still believe themselves the heroes, and I the foiled villain. Hate them, because for the first time, I don't know if I will be able to fix this, to recover from the blow I have just been dealt.

The power suddenly goes out with a loud thrum, plunging me into complete darkness.

I scoff mentally. What do they think will happen here? That being in the dark too long will leave me whimpering and broken like a lesser man? I am a former Lieutenant General of the United States Army. It will take a lot more than a little darkness and isolation to break me, to make me talk.

It is so silent my steady breathing and heartbeat seem impossibly loud. I begin to turn to find my way to my cot.

"Some men fear the darkness."

I freeze, a chill skittering down my spine, raising the hair on the back of my neck. Slowly I turn, my eyes rapidly scanning the dark.

Something emerges from the pitch black.

My gaze immediately zeroes in on the faint red light curling into a strange, spiralling current near where I am guessing is the main door to the holding cells. It faintly illuminates a slender hand, the fingers curling and twisting as the light weaves between them.

"But you don't, do you?"

Her heavily accented voice is dark, unearthly as it echoes across the room and wraps around me like a vice. A pair of deep, crimson eyes light up, emerging from the darkness as she pauses to stand in front of my cell.

I stand with my spine straight, my chin lifted to show her I will not be intimidated, even as icy dread begins to tremble within me, washing over me in a frigid wave. I take in those scarlet, glowing eyes that faintly illuminate the rest of her beautiful, merciless face.

"Tell me, Mr. Secretary," she raises her hands, the crimson currents growing to curl around her palms, her wrists.

" _What do you fear_?"

* * *

 **A/N: So I'm going to try and keep all my author's notes at the end of the chapters from now on unless there's a warning that needs to be made or something like that.**

 **Whew! I can't believe I ended up writing this one from Ross's perspective! It was actually really challenging and a fun experience to get inside the villain's head, to try and see things through his eyes and find his motivations. I hope you guys enjoyed it! I know many of you hated him and wanted him to suffer for all he did. And so did I, believe me. I of course wanted the Avengers to pummel the crap out of him, lol, but one of my goals as a writer is to keep things to what I believe is canon, to not have anyone break character too severely according to my interpretation. So everyone wailing on him just didn't sit right with me. lol. So I hope this route is both satisfying for you as well as accurate! Ross is definitely not getting away with what he did!**

 **Guys, I am SO overwhelmed by the outpouring of support and encouragement! The amount of reviews, follows, and favorites for just the first chapter of my story blew me away! Thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed or followed or favorited. Welcome back all you readers who have stuck with me, and welcome aboard to new readers! You guys mean the world to me, and every review inspires me to keep writing stories for you guys. So I really, really appreciate it. SO MUCH LOVE!**

 **I will leave this up to you guys, whether or not you would like me to go back to replying to your reviews here in my author's note, or if you'd rather not have an author's note that is a mile long. lol!**

 **As always, send love to your amazing beta, PippinStrange, who gives the best advice when I am stuck, who encourages me and fangirls with me, and is one of the best writers I have ever encountered. If you haven't already, go give her story, Down Came the Rain, some major love! It's lacking on the reviews, but not lacking in the incredible story department! It's the best on the site, hands down. Action, humor, intensity, ALL THE FEELS, and her Tony Stark is just so on point. It's fabulous!**

 **TRAILER AND FAN ART: If you'd like to see the movie trailer for Paint it Black, created by the incredible PippinStrange, or if you'd like to see my progress so far on the poster I am creating for Silent Night, check out my instagram: mscrystalbeard. If you send me a message there, I will send you the link to the trailer! It's SO EPIC.**

 **Let me know your thoughts on this chapter! I love hearing from you!**

* * *

 **Coming up: Who's missing Peter Parker? I think it's about time we check in on him and see how he is adjusting back to normal life after everything that has happened. ;)**


	3. Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Chapter Three: Baby, It's Cold Outside**

 **Peter Parker**

This is it.

This is the end for me.

There will be no surviving this, no coming back.

Not this time.

I stare at the mountain of notes and textbooks on my desk as I lean back in my chair, my feet firmly planted on the ground to keep it from spinning. The sheer amount of paper there is probably enough to supply an entire office for a week. Maybe more.

" _What's the matter, Peter_?"

I sigh heavily, my elbow resting on the arm of my chair, the eraser end of my pencil pressed against my right temple.

"It's no use, Karen. I'll never be able to catch up on all this homework _and_ be able to study for all my finals. I'm doomed."

" _I believe in you_."

"Gee, thanks," I focus my mask's lenses on the chemistry study guide resting atop the neon, multicolored flashcards Ned had dutifully copied for me.

Figures I would be abducted two weeks before finals. My subsequent capture and rescue and recuperation at the Avenger's compound took place over the span of six days, leaving me just one week of regular classes before finals week, followed by Winter Break.

Luckily, this week was basically one big study session at school, the teachers doing their best to summarize the entire first semester to prepare us for the exams.

Unluckily for me, I still had all my make up work to do on top of it, my teachers expecting it all finished before school was out for the rest of December and the first week of January. And thanks to the excuse for my absence that May had given the school, courtesy of Happy, none of my teachers were feeling particularly lenient. They'd been informed that I had been on an impromptu out-of-country trip for my internship with Stark industries, a once in a lifetime opportunity that could secure me a paid position with the company once I graduated.

Well, they'd nailed the out-of-country and once in a lifetime parts.

I drag my feet on the floor, the wheels of my chair squeaking as I scoot closer to the desk and pick up one of the flashcards.

The front side says "Gibb's Free Energy". I know this one. Chemistry is easily my best subject, and studying for Mr. Cobwell's tests are always a breeze.

So why can't I remember this term? I _know_ that I know it, know that I could pick the correct option on a multiple choice question, or fill out a short answer with its definition, or even use it in a more complex equation.

I squint my eyes, narrowing my mask's lenses at the neon orange card and Ned's hastily scrawled handwriting.

Nothing.

My mind is completely blank.

I flip over the card with a sigh of frustration.

"Delta(Final-Initial) G

Tells if a reaction is Spon or Nonspon

Positive Delta G = Nonspon

Negative Delta G = Spon"

I groan and flick the card back onto the desk. I totally knew that one. Knew how to calculate the max of reversible work performed by a thermodynamic system at a constant temperature and pressure with it. Duh. That was one of the easy ones.

Oh man, I am so _screwed_.

" _You seem frustrated_."

"Do I? Huh, that's weird. Can't imagine why," I toss my pencil on top of the flashcards and watch as it rolls right off of them and clatters to the floor, disappearing under my desk.

Damn it.

" _Perhaps it would be more productive to work on one of your lengthy assignments, like your book report on 'A Tale of Two Cities', and then you can study with Ned tomorrow?"_ Karen suggests.

I let my head fall back with a sound of dismay, my hands coming up to press against my mask covered forehead.

"Oh my god," I groan. "I haven't even finished reading the book yet! How can I have all this work from just missing a week?!"

" _According to google, the sophomore year of high school is one of the most academically dense, the largest concentration of work being in the weeks leading up to final exams_."

"Thank you, Karen."

" _You're very welcome._ "

I inwardly roll my eyes at the A.I. then look back at the mountain of chaos across my desk. Anxiety rises, twisting my gut and filling my limbs with nervous, stressed energy. My leg starts shaking, my foot tapping rapidly on the floor as I drum my fingers on the arm of my chair.

I could sit here and stare at my homework and contemplate the inevitability of my failure.

Or...

I blow out a breath and kick away from the desk, rising out of the chair before it can stop spinning. I shiver as I pull my layered shirts and sweatshirt over my head, careful not to remove the mask as I do so.

" _Where are we going_?" Karen asks as I discard the rest of my clothes and pull on my suit, clapping a hand over the icon on my chest.

It tightens around me as I reply, "I-I can't concentrate. It's too much. I need...I need a break."

" _Excellent idea, Peter. Studies have shown that seventeen minutes is the ideal amount of time to take a break in order to greatly improve focus and productivity. Would you like me to set a timer for you?_ "

I glance quickly out the window to make sure no one is looking, and then I am crawling out and shooting a web to the rooftop of the nearest building.

"No thanks," I say breathlessly as I swing into the open air, something tight in my chest easing at the motion. "I just need to be home before May gets back from work at six."

If she knew I was hitting the streets instead of hitting the books with the amount of homework I had, May would lose it. And I definitely don't want a repeat of the last lecture I got when Happy brought me home from the compound.

I propel myself over the tall, snow covered ledge of the rooftop and land lightly on my feet, already sprinting for the edge on the far side.

Wind batters into my body as I freefall, firing another web at the last minute and shooting back up into the sky towards the top of another building. I can't suppress a shiver as I front flip mid-air and land on the roof's edge in a crouch.

"Hey, Karen? Think you can turn on my suit's heater?"

" _Of course_."

The suit is instantly flooded with heat, warming my body against the winter chill. I flex my fingers and toes, savoring the warmth in my extremities, and wishing that my chest felt as toasty. But no amount of heat will melt the ice there.

I don't let myself sink further into that line of thought. Instead, I slam the door firmly shut on any thinking having to do with the unnatural internal cold or exactly _why_ I have so much make up work.

Instead, I lose myself in the frigid air as I leap across the rooftops.

Out here, I can just be Spiderman, and leave Peter Parker far behind me.

* * *

When May opens my bedroom door, I am studiously working on my essay, outlining my thesis for examining the motifs of light and darkness in "A Tale of Two Cities".

I am also kicking my suit further beneath my desk, controlling my still rapid breathing, and trying not to look too flushed, like I've just been swinging my way through Queens.

She leans against the doorway, her arms folding over her chest. "How's it going?"

"It's going," I say, sighing and leaning away from my homework like I've been working on it for hours without a break. "How was work?"

"Work," she shrugs. "Have you made a dent in your make up assignments yet?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I've made some...progress," I glance at the daunting mound.

"Good. I want it all done, and done well, got it?" May points at the desk, her finger moving in a circle to encompass the entire heap. "Saving the world isn't an excuse to fail all your classes."

"Got it," I say. It's difficult to hide my wince at her words, but I must manage, because she doesn't comment on it.

"I gotta sit down," she says with a wince. "My feet are killing me. I ordered a pizza. An extra large one since I know how many slices you can put away in one sitting. I am just not up to cooking tonight. You keep working on that till it gets here, yeah?"

I nod. "Yeah, sure."

May's nose crinkles, and she glances around my disheveled room. "Peter, honey, it smells like a locker room in here. Do your laundry, or take a shower, or...I don't know, febreze the carpet or something."

"Before or after I finish all this homework?"

"Before, smartass. I don't want the smell contaminating the rest of the apartment. At least spray it down before going back to your essay. Febreze is in the hall closet," May gives me a look before turning and heading to the living room.

The moment she's gone I let out a long, exhausted breath, closing my eyes and letting my head fall to rest on top of my essay. That was close.

Aunt May had been less than sympathetic about my workload since I'd gotten back from the compound. Although, to be fair, she had no idea what had really happened to me, why I had actually been gone last week. Against my will, the mental door I had shut on my memories of the past week cracks open, and I am forced to relive the less than pleasant conversation we'd had when I returned.

* * *

...

…

 _Happy opens my car door, and after a sharp, hesitant breath, I slide out._

" _You look pale, kid," Happy remarks. "You ok?"_

" _Y-yeah, yeah I'm good," I look up at my apartment complex, swallowing thickly. I am torn between the desire to bolt up to Aunt May as fast as I can, and to climb back into the car and tell Happy to drive me back to the Avengers compound._

 _I stand there, shivering and staring, riddled with nerves but wanting nothing more than to hug my aunt and crawl into the safety of my own bed._

" _Come on, let's get you inside," Happy says finally, but not impatiently. He closes the car door and sets a hand on my shoulder._

 _I glance up at his face and notice his expression is tight, his eyes darting nervously up to my window._

 _I realize with no small amount of amusement, that Happy is_ afraid _of my aunt. I'm about to call him out on it, when I remember there is a completely valid reason for being afraid of her. I also remember him mentioning that he has been the one taking May's calls and furious voice mails the entire time I have been gone._

 _Then I make what is probably the bravest, most_ selfless _decision I have made since becoming a superhero: I let Happy off the hook._

 _"It's okay," I tell him, stepping out of his reach and onto the sidewalk. "You don't have to go up with me. I got this."_

 _"You sure?" he blinks, and I can tell he is trying not to look to relieved. "I can take you up there, make sure you get settled in alright."_

 _I nod. "I'm sure. Good night, Happy."_

 _"'Night, kid," Happy replies, and I open the door to the complex._

 _"Hey," he calls, and I pause, looking over my shoulder. "Call me if you need anything. I mean it."_

 _I give him a small smile, both grateful that I know he will answer no matter what, and discouraged at the reminder of why he is offering._

 _I enter the building, sighing at the rush of heat that meets me when I step over the threshold and head for the elevator. I press the button for my floor, then hit the close door button and lean back against one of the metal walls._

 _My insides begin writhing with anxiety. For the most part, I had been so looking forward to going home, to seeing May, I hadn't thought too much about what her reaction might be, what excuses I might have to make up. Now I wish I had come up with a game plan, predicted her reactions and compensated for each one._

 _I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans._

 _Groveling. Groveling is my game plan._

 _And apologizing. Lots of that too. And if things start to look too dire, I'll turn on the puppy dog eyes and see where that gets me._

 _The doors open with a cheerful ding, and I walk swiftly down the hall until I am standing in front of my door. I raise my fist to knock and realize my hand is shaking._

 _Knock. Knock. Knock._

 _The door swings open, and Aunt May is standing there, dressed in an oversized sweater, her glasses slightly askew on her face. Her expression goes from blank, to shocked, to relieved, to furious in the span of four seconds._

 _I smile weakly, waving a hand half heartedly, although all I want to do is charge forward and wrap my arms around her._

 _"Hey," I say lamely. I feel my throat swell, my eyes get warm, and I have to reel it all in before she sees, but god, I'm just so happy to see her, so relieved to be home._

 _Her nostrils flare, her lips pressing together in a thin line, and her eyes get so big I worry they will pop out of her head like one of those cheap squeezy toys. She shakes her head, too angry or emotional to speak, and steps aside to let me in._

 _I step into the apartment, wincing as the door slams shut behind me, and then my face is buried in her sweater as she pulls me in for a hug and wraps her arms tightly around me. I sink into the embrace, closing my eyes as I squeeze her back._

 _"Are you hurt?" her voice is tearful, worried._

 _"No," I shake my head, my voice muffled by her sweater._

 _May places both hands on my shoulders, pushing me away before I am ready to release her, and whacks her hand upside my head._

 _"Ow!" I exclaim, raising my hand to my hair._

 _She points her finger at my chest like she might jab me with it, and I wisely take a few steps back._

 _"Explain yourself, mister._ Right _._ Now _."_

 _"Uh-"_

 _"What on_ earth _makes you think that it is ok to disappear without a_ word _to me, to go...to go..._ gallivanting _with Tony effing Stark halfway around the world on some sort of-top secret-classified-mission quest thing of the world saving variety!?"_

 _"I-"_

 _"You know, all things considered, Peter, I've been very, very cool about this-this superhero thing," she begins pacing, her hands flying up to grasp her forehead only to start gesturing wildly again. "But for you to just take off like that...There aren't parenting books on this! I've checked! None! Zip! Nada! And I get why you do it, I really do. But, Peter, honey, I thought I made myself and the rules very clear. What the hell happened with the honesty policy, huh? What happened with that?"_

 _I open my mouth, then pause, thinking she is just going to continue yelling again. She seems to be waiting for an answer this time._

 _"W-well, I-"_

 _"I mean, what the actual shit? Sorry. Excuse my language. I'm just-I'm flustered, and I'm upset, and I'm angry...but I am so, so relieved you are home safe, and that you're okay," May brushes my hair from my forehead and takes my head gently in her hands. Then she scowls and releases me. "But this isn't ok. I am not okay with this-not if you can't be honest with me like you promised. You can't just-just disappear and not tell me, and then I have to hear from your handler of all people that you're off saving the world, but he won't tell me from what or who-and that damn Tony Stark wouldn't answer any of my calls-not one, and-"_

 _"May!" it's my turn to grip her by her shoulders. "Breathe! You're turning purple."_

 _Aunt May inhales raggedly and blows it out in a huff, brushing off my hands. "I need to sit down."_

 _She stalks for the couch and drops onto it to hold her head in her hands, looking completely exhausted._

 _I swallow thickly, guilt constricting around me, as heavy as gravity. Heavier. Man, if this is how worried and awful she felt when she thought I was fighting bad guys or aliens with the Avengers, what would it do to her if she knew the truth?_

 _Slowly, hesitantly, I cross the living room to sit by her side. I put an arm around her shoulder, reassuring her that I am here, that I am safe. May leans into me and rests her head on my shoulder. "What am I going to do with you, kid?" she murmurs._

 _"Forgive me?" I offer hopefully._

 _Aunt May sits up to give me a dry look._

 _"I am...so, so, so unbelievably sorry," I begin earnestly, because I am. "It all just...it happened so fast, and there wasn't any time to think about it. I-I know I should have, I know I should have at least called, but...I was stupid. I was stupid, and wrong, and I am so, so sorry."_

 _"Sorry as in, 'I'm sorry you were worried'? Or sorry as in, 'I was an idiot, and I'm never going to do that to my poor aunt again'?"_

 _"The second one," I say firmly. "I promise. No more disappearing without telling you."_

 _She sighs wearily, taking off her glasses to rub at her eyes. "You really promise, Peter? You can't-you can't do that to me again. I was going out of my ever-loving mind-"_

 _"I really promise," I assure her quickly. "Really."_

 _"Good. Because I swear, if you try to pull that kind of shit again...Listen, I don't care if-if...like...an alien invasion or something is about to wipe out the planet, and you're the only one that can stop them. Something like that comes up, you come home, you tell me, and you give me a damn hug. The world can wait five minutes. Got it?"_

 _"Got it."_

 _May pulls me into another hug, and I let her. We stay like that for a moment before I dare to ask, "How much trouble am I in?"_

 _"Oh buddy, you have no idea."_

…

 _..._

* * *

I sit up, rubbing at my tired eyes with one hand, like I could scrub the memory out of them if I pressed hard enough. Seeing her freak out like that was...not good. I give my head a little shake, reaching down to grab my mask where it lays entangled with my suit beneath my desk. Then I pull it over my head and blink a few times as the lenses adjust.

"Thanks for downloading the sparknotes for 'A Tale of Two Cities', Karen," I murmur.

" _You're welcome, Peter. Although the quality of your paper would probably be greatly improved if you read the actual book._ "

"I don't exactly have the time for that," I reply, then glance down at the first paragraph of my essay, the black ink smeared and splotched. "What the-What the hell? What happened to my essay?"

" _I believe you rested your forehead on top of it before the ink had a chance to dry_."

Damn it.

"Peter, pizza's here!" May calls from the other room. "Hey, what do you think of going to get a Christmas tree tomorrow night? As a reward for all your hard work today?"

I stare down at my smudged start to what will undoubtedly be a half-assed essay, and the piles of unread notes and untouched assignments. "Uh...yeah. Sounds great."

* * *

"Was the Hulk there?"

"No."

"Was it aliens again? It was aliens, wasn't it?"

"No, Ned."

"Did you go into outer space to fight the aliens?"

I stop answering.

"Did you pick up Thor's Hammer? DUDE. Did you use Thor's hammer to _fight_ the aliens _in_ outer space?"

I give him an exasperated glare.

"Come on," Ned begs as we walk down the crowded hall to our next class. He lowers his voice. "You were gone for a _week_. With the _Avengers_."

Thanks for the reminder, I think, my teeth clenching together. "I told you, I'm not allowed to talk about it."

"Yeah, but that hasn't stopped you before. You're really not going to tell me anything?"

"I'm really not," I adjust my grip on my textbooks. "Look, I'm sorry, but I can't. Not this time."

Ned tries not to look crestfallen, covering up his disappointment with a shrug and an overly cheerful, "Ok, got it. I'll stop."

My insides squirm with guilt. God, it's like kicking a puppy, I feel that despicable. I hate lying to him, hate shutting him down like that. But telling him about the past week, about what I faced, when I can't even tell May...I won't do it.

I can't.

I just want things to go back to normal, or my kind of normal, at least. I want to forget that any of it happened. I know that's an impossible wish, a childish one, with the possibly permanent reminder _living in my chest_ , and the routine checkups at the compound with Dr. Cho. But I already have to spend so much time thinking about it.

I don't want to do it here.

I don't want Ned to look at me differently.

We shuffle into our next class, U.S. government, _ugh_ , and slide into our assigned seats, mine near the wide window, and Ned's by the door. I drop my textbooks onto my desk with a dull thud, sighing as I fall heavily into my seat and huddle further into my coat.

I try not to notice that everyone is peeling their coats and sweatshirts off, complaining loudly about how this classroom is always stiflingly hot.

Mr. Madera stands behind his podium, his shoulders stooped as he slowly shuffles through his handwritten notes at the front of the class. He pauses to leisurely clean his glasses with the bottom of his brown tie before placing them back on his nose.

I stifle a groan. This is going to be another painfully boring class. I should pay close attention today, to get the highlights of what might be on next week's exam. But his lectures are notoriously dry, long winded, and full of useless, unexciting tangents, all performed in a dull, monotone voice.

I flip open my notebook with one hand as my other goes up to rub at my chest near my sternum. Staring off at the whiteboard, I begin tapping my pencil upon the blank, lined page, perfectly content to space out and think about absolutely nothing.

"What are you doing?"

I jump slightly, glancing sharply to my left. Michelle is staring at me quizzically, her chin propped in her hand, her frizzy, curly hair secured back in her usual ponytail.

"What?"

"What are you doing?" she repeats, slower this time, her eyes dropping to my chest.

I freeze, my hand dropping awkwardly to my desk. "Oh. That's -uh- nothing."

She raises an eyebrow. "Then why have you been doing it all day?"

"What?" I furrow my brows. "No-I mean, I haven't...have I?"

MJ stares at me with a level look, like I am an idiot for questioning her superb, albeit slightly strange observational skills.

"It's...um...heartburn? Yeah, just-just a little heartburn," I even wince as I go back to rubbing my chest for a moment before letting my hand fall to rest on top of my notebook again.

She's still staring at me, and I just stare nervously back. How does she do that? Look at me like she can tell every thought I am thinking?

"Okay," she shrugs, leaning back in her seat and flipping open her notebook, the pages littered with doodles. "That's totally normal. For a fifteen year old. To get heartburn."

My face heats. "It...yeah, it is, actually. It's uh-a stress thing. You know, with all the...makeup work and finals."

Well, at least that part isn't a lie.

MJ doesn't respond, but starts a new doodle on a blank page as the bell rings to signal the start of class. I blow out a quiet breath, now totally self conscious about my hands.

Mr. Madera heaves a sigh. "Good afternoon, class."

He waits, like he does every single time, for our half-assed, mumbled reply, before beginning his lecture.

I am hyper aware of my body, of possible observing eyes. So I do my best to keep my hands on my desk, and to suppress every shiver that threatens to escape me. I try to act like I am too hot in my jacket, that it would be too much of a hassle to take it off now that class has started.

I try to act like I am paying attention, when all I can hear is the scratch of Michelle's pencil as she doodles in her notebook.

My pulse accelerates, my fingers twitching with sudden, prickling nerves as I watch her sketch out of the corner of my eye, unsure as to why I am so terrified of what she could be drawing.

* * *

By the time the bell rings at 2:45, I am completely drained, mentally and physically. I sort of just want to go home and pass out, but that's not even an option. I still have an insane amount of studying to do.

A thought perks me up though.

Tonight I can go pick out a Christmas tree with Aunt May. Maybe that will give me a boost of holiday cheer, enough to get me through the next two weeks at least until Winter Break.

I make an excuse to Ned about needing to clarify one of my makeup assignments with Ms. Warren, and hang back with a promise to text him later.

I'm a terrible person, and an even worse friend.

But I can't spend the entire walk home dodging more questions. Not-not today. When I'm sure that he's several blocks away from the school, I head down the front steps, taking a hard left for the streets, most of the walking traffic already dispersed with the exception of a few lonely stragglers like myself.

I'm thinking about asking Karen to download some more cheat sheets for me when I see him.

Happy is standing on the curb in front of the sleek, black car, sunglasses resting on his stoic face, a thick jacket over his usual black and white suit. He looks like a bouncer. Or a bodyguard. Or maybe an agent working for the Men in Black.

Subtle, Happy. Very subtle.

My stomach sinks somewhere beneath my feet, and I try to keep my dismay from showing on my face.

I'd completely forgotten.

It's testing day.

My steps had subconsciously slowed when I caught sight of him, and I force myself to resume my pace and head for the car, despite my immediate desire to turn and run in the opposite direction.

Hmm. The idea has merit. There's no way Happy could catch me, even if I didn't have the ability to leap over twelve foot fences or stick to walls. Unless he tased me. Which I don't think he would do. At least, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't.

I trudge forward.

"Hey, Happy," I say as I reach him, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"Hey, kid," he pulls open the door for me and stands by it, waiting.

With a resigned sigh, I get in the car.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello all!**

 **I wanted to get this chapter posted as my Christmas gift to all of you before all the holiday craziness starts for me. So Merry Christmas!**

 **Thanks so much for your reviews! Several of you seriously made my DAY with your excitement, enthusiasm, and encouragement. So special shoutouts to Makayla24 and TeamCaptain2016! I loved hearing EVERYONE's thoughts, and several of you have expressed that it's like reading a Marvel movie, which makes me die and fangirl and just, just so much love. Oh man, you guys are the best! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter just as much, and please let me know your thoughts! I check for reviews as eagerly as some of you check for updates! Lol!**

 **PippinStrange, the incredible beta for this story (THE REASON THE STORY EXISTS,GUYS, JUST SAYIN), has written an amazing Avengers story called Down Came the Rain, which you guys should definitely read ASAP and send her lots of love and reviews. I cannot get over how good her story is, how her characters are SO in character, it's just mind blowing. She has also created a trailer for Paint it Black! If you'd like to see it, message either of us on instagram, and we will send it to you!**

 **Mine is mscrystalbeard, and hers can be found on her profile!**

 **I hope you all have a wonderful holiday, whatever you may be celebrating!**

 **Coming Up: Tony and the Avengers return to the compound, and all Tony wants to do is sleep. Somehow I don't think it's going to happen ;)**

 **MERRY CHRISTMAS ONE AND ALL!**


	4. God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen

**Chapter Four: God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen**

 **Tony Stark**

"So, what now? You and Barnes gonna pick a room, be bunk buddies?"

Steve smiles wryly from where he leans along the railing overlooking one of several common areas in the facility. I lean next to him, my back along the smooth metal, facing the opposite direction with my arms folded across my chest.

"Bucky has some unfinished business in Wakanda."

"As in, he's anxious to return to his frozen test tube for an extended nap, or are you saying T'Challa's people finally figured out a way to get the Hydra brainwashing out of his head?"

"The latter, actually," Steve replies, such relief, such hope brimming in his eyes. "I got the call on the flight back to base."

"I'll have to congratulate him," I say tightly. "And uninstall the remote kill commands in the arm I built him."

Steve looks at me sharply. "The what-?"

I wave him off. "Nothing important. Unnecessary security measures, blah blah blah. Real boring stuff. I assume that means you're going with him?"

Cap gives me an exasperated look like he's not sure whether to push the matter further before he throws in the towel and says with a sigh. "Someone should be there with him. The procedure...it won't be pleasant."

"I imagine not," I reply grimly. "Well, tell his highness I say howdy, and not to be a stranger. Plenty of Hydra bastards to hunt down, things to be avenged and what have you."

"We'll be back," Steve promises. "The world needs us now more than ever. And you know I am not one to sit by and twiddle my thumbs when Hydra is involved. As soon as Bucky's cleared for duty, we'll be on the first jet back."

"I'll hold you to it."

Something catches Steve's eye, and I turn to face the ledge to see what has captured his attention. Wanda Maximoff is striding below us, dressed in nondescript, dark clothing, a bag slung over her shoulder. She pauses, sensing our gaze, and looks up.

Wanda and Steve exchange a long look, ending in some sort of nod of recognition, before she turns those big eyes on me. Her expression is tight, icy, and dark enough to almost send a chill down my spine.

Almost.

With a final glare, she turns on her heel and heads towards the compound's garage.

"You know, I think she's forgiven me for the whole siding with the guys who locked her up like an animal thing. That look really said it all. She's definitely past it."

"She'll come around," Steve says reassuringly. "She just needs some time, that's all. We all made mistakes in Germany. We all did the best we could with the aftermath."

"Yeah, well, I'll always be the guy that inadvertently picked _Hydra_ over the team," I mutter with no small amount of self loathing. "I don't think any amount of explanation about what happened with Ross or Peter or Hydra will be enough for any of them to forgive me for letting them get locked up like that. For leaving them there."

"The odds aren't great," Steve admits, and I shoot him a dark look. "I'm kidding. Like I said, Tony, I think everyone just needs a little time to cool off. To process. You weren't the only one in the wrong, here."

Tell that to Wanda or Clint, I think, and decide to change the subject somewhat.

"I heard Vision is following Wanda on her little self exploratory trip around the world."

"He is. He said he wanted to make sure she didn't do anything foolish, that she was protected until our pardons become official."

"In other words, he's hoping she'll forgive him quickly so they can get it on?"

Steve gives me a sharp look.

"What? We all saw it coming, weird and...mildly creepy as it is."

Cap just rolls his eyes, then checks his watch. "I should go."

We turn to face each other, parting on much better terms than the last time we said goodbye, but it still feels wrong for us all to separate like this when we finally got back on the same side. Still feels...final.

Steve seems to sense my train of thought.

"This isn't goodbye, Tony. We're just a phone call away," he promises. Then he meets my eyes solemnly. "And about before...with Bucky, and your parents…"

I go to wave him off, but he continues before I can do so.

"I'm sorry. I thought that by not telling you, that I was sparing you. I know now, I was just sparing myself. I hurt you, and for that, I'm sorry."

Steve sticks out his hand, and I take it, my throat tight. "I am too," I clear my throat. "For, you know, kicking your ass, shooting off your friend's arm, taking your favorite toy, unknowingly siding with a psychotic egomaniac...you know what? The details aren't important."

His lips quirk up into a smile. "See you, Tony."

"See you around, Cap."

He turns and heads for the elevator that will take him to the hangar, where Barnes is undoubtedly waiting for him.

The hall echoes with multiple footsteps, and I turn to my left as the elevator doors shut with a cheerful ding.

Clint's eyes are hard as he thrusts a piece of paper at me.

"I don't like to be handed things," I say automatically before I can think.

"I don't really give a damn," he presses it against my chest, and I take it, my eyes dropping to the page's surface.

"What is this?"

"A list of all the renovations I'm doing on my farm, and how much it's going to cost. I'll be expecting a check in the mail."

He strides off, his steps determined and hurried. I choose not to think of how long he's been away from his wife. Christ, from his kids.

"I don't have a list," a voice says, and I look up as Scott Lang approaches from where he'd been hanging back. I think he's trying to look intimidating, but it's coming across more like he could use a few laxatives. "But I will be expecting a rather large check in the mail also."

"I'm sorry, have we met?" I ask as I head off towards the elevator.

"Oh come on, man!" Lang's voice rises in frustrated disbelief.

I step into the elevator, Clint's list in my hand. As the doors shut, Lang calls out, "I was wronged too, you know!"

Yeah, well, get in line, buddy, I think to myself as I lean back against the elevator wall, folding up the list and slipping it into my pocket. A fierce headache that has been steadily building for the past forty eight hours is now pulsing insistently in my temples, and moving steadily through my skull to my eyes.

I need sleep.

I need to check out for at least twelve hours with some heavy medication, a ridiculously soft memory foam mattress, and a triple espresso waiting by the bedside table for when I decide to grace the world with my presence again.

The doors open, and I stride for my rooms, fully intending to tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. not to let anyone disturb me unless they wanted to experience the new security measures I'd just finished reseting and installing.

There's a hiss and a muffled curse.

I round the corner, and there's Happy Hogan near one of the coffee stations I had installed throughout the facility. He has an overly full styrofoam cup in his hands, the steaming coffee sloshing dangerously towards the sides, and is slowly, carefully bringing it up to his lips. I wait until the edge is centimeters from his mouth.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Happy jumps, the coffee pouring over the sides of the cup as his arm jerks away from his face at the last second. He leaps back, cursing as he holds the cup out from his body to avoid the steaming splatters hitting the floor near his shoes.

Happy gives me a peeved glare. "Are you kidding me? This is almost boiling hot. I could have been burned."

"Your insurance would have covered your facial reconstructive surgery," I stick my hands in my pockets. "What are you doing here? I thought I gave you the day off."

"You never give me a day off," he reminds me with a scowl as he reaches for the pile of napkins on the coffee bar. "Dr. Cho asked me to bring the kid in for more tests."

My insides give a little jolt. "The kid's here? Is everything ok? Is he worse?"

"He's fine. Or as fine as he can be, I guess. Helen wants him to come in every few days to monitor the parasite, make sure it isn't spreading," Happy replies shortly, clearly still miffed at me.

I swivel around, changing directions, heading now to the compound's medical wing.

"Sure, I got this!" Happy calls after me, his voice laced with irritation. "I'll clean this mess up. Don't offer to help or anything!"

So I don't.

* * *

Jesus, the kid looks miserable.

Although he's looking a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw him being poked and prodded by doctors.

Peter sits on the edge of the white table, his hands rubbing together nervously, his stature tense, awkward, and his skin a few shades paler than it probably should be. He looks like he'd rather be anywhere than here, and I can't say that I blame him for that.

Helen is speaking to him, I can't hear her words on this side of the glass, and he nods jerkily before obediently lying back onto the table. She gives him a reassuring smile, pats his leg, and then reaches up to the machine. Helen presses a few buttons with her nimble fingers, and then the table Peter is lying on is sliding backwards into a large but narrow white tube. It looks like a MRI machine on steroids.

The kid's eyes squeeze shut, his muscles so tense he looks like he might snap as he is pulled into the narrow tube.

Helen switches a few more knobs on the machine before heading out of the room. The door to the control room I am standing in opens, and she blinks at me in surprise. "Tony, I wasn't expecting you."

"How is he?" I nod towards the miserable looking teenager encased in the machine.

"Well, we are about to find out," Helen rests a hand on one of the assistant's shoulders monitoring the consoles, and gives them some orders in Korean. "Our last set of tests showed that the procedure is working. Venom is still contained and has made no move to spread to the rest of his body. I want to make sure that is still the case."

"How often is he coming in?"

"Every few days. I know that's not ideal," Helen continues at my look. "But if I am going to figure out how to remove it, as well as monitor its growth and possible side effects, I need him here."

"Where are we on that? Removing it, I mean."

She stands beside me, both of us watching the machine light up and begin its work.

Helen sighs, a sound that is the opposite of what I want to hear.

"I'm still looking into it. I'm sorry, I know that's not what you want to hear right now, but this is all unprecedented, the work of mad scientists. It's going to take some time. Cutting it out of him isn't an option, and neither is taking a sample of it to perform my tests. Which leaves me no other choice than to perform my tests on Peter directly. So we have to move cautiously."

I rub a hand down my face, resignation weighing heavily in my gut.

"Have there been any side effects so far?"

"Nothing much," Helen seems to be happier to give me somewhat good news. "His body is running a little colder than normal, and he says he's been a little more tired, but that's to be expected. Nothing major."

"Good. Keep me updated on everything."

"Of course."

I can barely see the kid's face within the machine, but I can see that his eyes are screwed shut, and his hands, curled into fists, are trembling.

And I can't help but feel responsible for every ounce of his misery.

* * *

Peter walks out of the waiting room, pulling a second sweatshirt over his head as he goes, so he doesn't see me until he is inches away, and his head pops through the neck of his hoodie.

"Mr. Stark!" he exclaims in surprise, his eyes widening.

"Hey, kid," I say lightly, putting an arm around his shoulder. "I'll walk you to the car."

"Oh, o-ok."

"How are you?"

"Uh, I-I'm good, Mr. Stark. Really good."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Kid, you were abducted, tortured,and implanted with an alien parasite, which you are now undergoing a ridiculous amount of tests for. You're allowed to not be 'good'."

He flushes slightly. "Right. Sorry. I just-yeah. I'm...hanging in there, I guess."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up," I say, letting my arm fall back to my side as we walk down the wide, windowed hall. Every inch of the lawn outside is covered in several inches of snow, making the reflection almost blinding. I pull my sunglasses from my jacket pocket and slip them on. "I wanted to be. There was just something I had to take care of."

"Oh. Yeah, I understand. You don't have to-"

"I do have to. I just want you to know that, given the choice, I would have been here. But the others and I had to go after the guy responsible for all of this. You might have seen him on tv, or heard about him in school. Thaddeus Ross? Secretary of State? Turns out, he was working for Hydra. Had a hand in putting you there," I tell him, watching as he looks at me sharply, his eyes widening in surprise.

Steve would probably give me a hard time about telling the kid more than he needed to hear. But Peter went through more than what the average adult goes through in their entire life span. He deserves to know who's responsible for it.

"I know," I say as his jaw drops slightly and his brows furrow together. "Came as a nasty surprise to us too, although it shouldn't have. Ross was always a bastard. But you don't have to worry about him anymore. He's taken care of, locked up in the same prison he kept our pals in. All the evidence is being turned into the United Nations as well as our court system for review so he can be officially convicted and tried, but there's no way he can wiggle his way out of it. He'll be put away for life, if he's lucky."

The kid frowns as he absorbs that information. After a moment, he asks, "Secretary Ross knows my identity? He knows I'm Spiderman?"

I nod. "It's a long story about the hows and what nots but yes."

"What's stopping him from outing me, then? I mean, if he's going to trial and then to prison, couldn't he just, tell everyone who I am, as, I don't know, some kind of...revenge?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, either," I say. "Wanda, our resident witch and telepath, took care of it. He won't be coming after you again."

The kid falls silent, and so do I as we head down the hall and hang a right toward the main lobby. We are nearing the large, double doors that exit to the main stairs where Happy is waiting with the car, when I pause, placing a hand on the kid's shoulder to stop him as well.

"Here," I pull a small box out of my pocket. "This is for you."

Peter takes the box and opens it, his eyes widening comically. "Mr. Stark! I can't take this, this looks like-"

I take the box from his hands and pull out the watch resting inside of it. "-a very thoughtful gift, thank you, Mr. Stark," I finish for him as I clasp the watch around his wrist. "I finished tinkering with it on the flight back. It has a tracking device embedded in it. Do. not. mess. with the tracker. That goes for your nerdy friend too."

"This button here," I motion to the small silver knob on the bottom of the watch face. "Is an emergency beacon. If at any point in time you need immediate assistance, all you have to do is press it, and someone will be there in minutes. Me, one of my suits, even one of the other Avengers, we'll come get you. Got it?"

He nods, looking dumbfounded and impressed and a little worried. "Has some other pretty cool features, but I'll let you mess with it later at home."

I can tell he wants to protest, but instead he looks up at me with those big, grateful eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Stark. Really."

"Don't. Don't thank me, kid," I shake my head. "I shouldn't have let any of this happen in the first place. You shouldn't need a fancy watch with a tracker or a damn emergency beacon. I am...I am truly-"

The words choke in my throat, and I have to clear it as I look away from him towards the snowy outdoors. "I am truly sorry that I let this happen to you. It won't happen again, I can promise you that."

"Mr. Stark, there's...there's nothing to be sorry for-"

"There is, and I am. What happens to you is my responsibility. One I will be taking a hell of a lot more seriously from now on. And if...if you ever want to talk...about what happened. I'm here. I can't guarantee I will say what you want to hear, or that I'll be able to say anything at all. But I'm here. And I'll listen."

I risk a glance back at the kid, who is unable to meet my eyes. In that moment, he looks torn, haunted, as choked up as I am feeling. But then he forces a small smile on his face and says, "Thanks. Thank you, for everything. For getting me out, for the watch, a-and the offer."

I fight back a sigh, both relieved that he didn't break down and tell me every horror he experienced and hating myself for it, and disappointed that he's being so nonverbal, when before it was a trick getting him to stop talking.

I clear my throat again, sticking my hands in my pockets. "We'll figure this out, kid. That's my other promise. Now go on, Happy's waiting to take you home."

Peter heads for the door, turning slightly to raise his arm bearing the watch. "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

And then he's gone.

* * *

 _"Would you like me to order breakfast for you? You haven't eaten real food in approximately eight hours_."

"I had a donut on the flight back."

" _You haven't eaten real food in approximately eight hours_ ," the A.I. repeats. I honestly have no idea where she gets her snarkiness from. I certainly didn't program it in.

"Rain check, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," I frown at the nearest couch, a modern, sunset orange leather piece that no doubt cost me a fortune, before I collapse onto it with a groan.

" _Your bed would be more comfortable_."

"Too far. Don't care."

I sigh heavily, my eyes falling shut as my body finally relaxes. This mess is far from over, but no one is in immediate, life threatening danger, and I am taking this moment, damn it.

I am teetering on that edge between blissful sleep and unforgiving reality when I hear the footsteps, the heavy gait of a man who not too long ago relearned how to walk.

Damn it. This is what I get for not walking the extra thirty feet to my rooms and bolting the door shut.

I hear the footsteps get nearer and nearer until he stands a handful of feet away from me.

I feel the weight of his stare. He knows I do, too, and is waiting for me to acknowledge him.

God, it's like he doesn't know me at all.

I don't move from my spot on the couch. I don't say a word, just keep up my rhythmic breathing like I still fully intend to pass out.

He clears his throat.

When I don't respond, he does it again.

"You should really get that checked out. Sounds unpleasant," I comment without opening my eyes.

"Really? That's all you have to say to me right now?"

"I could say _plenty_ to you right now."

I settle further into the couch, my hands moving to rest beneath my neck as my elbows fan out on either side of my head.

"Oh sure, get comfortable. Good idea. 'Cause you're going to sit your ass there and explain to me what the _hell_ just happened and why I am hearing about whatever it is _just now_."

Dear god, the universe hates me. My first moment of peace in days, and he chooses this minute to confront me.

I sit up with an exaggerated sigh.

Rhodes glares down at me, standing on his own with the leg braces I'd designed and redesigned and then redesigned some more for him.

"You look like shit," he adds.

"Thank you. That's just what I needed. Really, you've perked me up and primed me to debrief in the span of four words. Well done."

"What, not gentle enough for you?"

"Wow. I have so many one liners for that."

"Spare me," Rhodes folds his arms over his chest. "What the hell is going on, and why is everybody waltzing around the compound like some kind of jacked up family reunion, when half of them should still be in prison?"

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., I'll take that breakfast now," I say, leaning back against the couch. "You may want to sit for this one, buddy. Those braces won't catch you if you faint from shock."

"Please," he scoffs. "Try me."

"You asked for it. And when we are done here, I am going to bed, and the next person who stops me from passing out is bunking with Secretary Ross in the Raft."

"Hold up-you locked _Secretary Ross_ in his own ocean prison? What the actual hell?"

"Goddamn it, I gave away the punch line, didn't I?"

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! I hope everyone had an amazing Christmas (or whatever you might celebrate in the holiday season)! I know I certainly did!**

 **THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR REVIEWS! They've been a delight to read! Seriously, they make my day. Special shoutouts to Ginaboo, StarStepper, gandalf537, TheSlytherinNoahWinchester, MewWinx96, and PippinStrange for your heartwarming reviews! They made me ridiculously happy, and I am so glad you all are enjoying this story so far!**

 **And we are just getting started! This sequel will be longer than Paint it Black, and I am working diligently on the next few chapters as I go, and this is going to be one fun ride! I'm so glad you are all on it with me. :) I absolutely love writing this fic, and I am so happy to hear that you love reading it!**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! This one was particularly fun to write, so I'd love to hear your thoughts! Leave a review below!**

 **PippinStrange is the reason this story exists, the world's most supportive beta, and an overall wonderful human being. Guys, her writing is insanely phenomenal, so go check out her Spiderman story, Down Came the Rain. Plenty of whump, protective Tony Stark, a hilarious Ned, sweet and sassy Aunt May, a complex villain, and AMAZING characterization of the characters. They are so well written, it's like watching a movie. Go send her love!**

 **Coming up!**

 **Chapter Five: O Christmas Tree. Peter and May get their Christmas tree as promised, and then Peter has a nightmare that is out of this world! If you've been hankering for some action, this next chapter is for you! ;)**


	5. O Christmas Tree

**Chapter Five: O Christmas Tree**

Peter Parker

"How about this one?" May gestures to a short, scraggly noble fir, wide gaps between the branches that are sticking out haphazardly in different directions. She has always had a fondness for the more... _unique_ trees. The ones normal people pass by, the ones that Charlie Brown would probably pick out.

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah, yeah that's a good one," I say distractedly, using all of my concentration to keep my teeth from chattering.

I am _freezing._

A thin layer of snow dusts the sidewalks, rooftops, and the Christmas tree lot we are currently standing in, and small flakes drift lazily down from the sky.

I am currently dressed in a long sleeved thermal, a flannel button up, a sweatshirt, my thickest jacket, two pairs of socks, jeans, and a misshapen scarf May had made for me several years ago when she was trying to learn how to knit. I even have a very large hot chocolate in my gloved hands, which I am downing even though it is scalding hot in an attempt to get warm.

It isn't working.

"Are you okay?" May tilts her head to the side, her eyes creasing in concern. "You're unusually quiet. What's the matter? Not feeling this lot? We can go somewhere else."

"No, no," I rush to reassure her. "No, this is great. Really. I'm just a little cold."

That was the wrong thing to say. She frowns at me.

"Cold? Peter, honey, you have on like, every item of clothing that you own. You look like a marshmallow," May steps towards me and brushes some hair away from my forehead. She places the back of her hand on my forehead, then switches to put her palm on my cheek.

"God, your skin is like ice!" She exclaims, worried lines crinkling her forehead. "Why didn't you say something earlier? You must be coming down with something."

"I'm fine, really. I feel fine. Just need some more hot chocolate, and I'll perk right up, promise," I hold up my paper cup and take a few big drinks. "See? Already feeling warmer."

May's eyes squint at me suspiciously, my performance apparently not convincing in the slightest.

"Peter, you're paler than the snow. That's it. We're going home, and I'm making you some soup, the good kind, by which I mean canned. We can get the tree another night."

"No!" I protest quickly. No way am I going to ruin this over being _cold_. "No, come on, May. We're already here! And this lot has lots of good ones. Look at this one!"

I stride over to a tree leaning against the chain link fence, the branches near the top all sticking straight out like it got electrocuted or something. "Wow, I mean, come on," I gesture towards it with my free hand. "This… this one's a winner."

Aunt May eyes me with a skeptical frown before she relents. "Alright, fine. Let's get this one and go home and get you warmed up."

May goes to pay for the tree, assigning me to guard the tree while she does so to make sure nobody steals it. I look at the scraggly, unfortunate thing and fight back a laugh. Yeah, people will definitely be fighting us for this tree.

I swallow the rest of the hot chocolate, now sadly lukewarm, and try to contain my shivering. The icy feeling in my chest has gotten exponentially worse since leaving the Avengers compound this afternoon. Dr. Cho said that the tests were normal, that they showed no growth or advancement of the parasite, Venom, but I can't help but feel like something changed. I was cold at school today, but nowhere near this bad.

Of course, I wasn't standing out in the snow then.

I glance down at my wrist, at the lump beneath my jacket where my new watch now rests. I can't help but feel a little bit safer, a little more assured with it on my arm, with a direct link to help, should I need it.

The first couple days home from the compound had been hard. Hydra had taken me right off the streets, surrounded by people, in broad daylight. It was hard to feel safe after that. I'd nearly given myself whiplash from glancing behind me every few seconds walking along the streets. I'd probably looked like a complete tweaker, twitching and staring at everyone walking by like some paranoid psycho.

Luckily, this was New York, and tweakers weren't usually given second glances.

I'd relaxed some, always keeping my web shooters on my wrists just in case, but with the added security of the watch Mr. Stark gave me, I have hope that I won't always be glancing over my shoulder.

"Alright, tree's paid for. You ready?" May returns, shoving her wallet back into her purse.

"Yeah. Let's go home."

* * *

"Hey, Peter, why don't you get one of the chairs from the dining room table, so you can put the star on the tree?" May requests, unwinding the layers of bubble wrap from the shimmering gold star resting at the bottom of the Christmas box.

"Sure, I could do that. _Or_ ," I take the star from her hands and jump up easily, my left palm sticking on the ceiling. I place the star on the centermost branch sticking out of the top, and land gently on the carpet, brushing the glitter from my hands. "I could do that."

May scowls playfully at me. "Show off," she looks back at the tree. "It's crooked."

I follow her gaze. Huh. She's right. I go to jump up again, but she waves me back. "No, no, leave it. I like it crooked."

I roll my eyes affectionately and head for the box of ornaments, half of which are already on the tree. My hands reach for a red and green striped bauble, carrying it carefully by its hook and placing it on one of the higher branches.

Elvis's smooth baritone plays in the background, May's absolute favorite Christmas album, the one she listened to as a little girl.

The moment we'd gotten the tree back up to our apartment, a fresh scattering of pine needles now traipsed across the elevator, May had turned up the heat and put Campbell's chicken noodle soup in a pot on the stove, ordering me to take off my wet layers and get into my warm sweats.

I had been happy to oblige her, and though she made an incredibly valiant effort to get me warm, I didn't have the heart to tell her it was pointless. All she'd done was slightly taken the edge off, making it easier for me to suppress my shivers.

Still, she was happier now that she believed me to be heated back up.

Aunt May holds her favorite ornament, a glass red truck with a tiny Christmas tree resting in the back of it, and reaches up to put it in the place of honor at the center of the tree. The hook misses, and the ornament plummets. She lets out a sharp gasp, but I have already lunged forward to catch it inches before it shatters on the ground.

"Oh! Thank you, Peter," May retrieves it carefully and gently places it onto the tree. "Geez, I'm such a klutz. I would have been so pissed at myself if I had broken that after all these years."

I yawn as I place a plastic candy cane on one of the lower branches.

"So, you ever going to tell me what happened?"

I shoot her a quizzical look.

"You know," she rifles through the box of ornaments, adjusting her glasses as she straightens. "With the whole saving the world thing last week. Are you ever going to talk to me about it? Or do I not want to know?"

We are heading into dangerous territory here. I already feel like no matter how I respond to this question, it will be the wrong answer.

"Oh...um, well," I scratch the back of my head then crouch to pretend to adjust an ornament. "It's sort of...uh-classified. Yeah. National security and all that. Er-I guess it would be _inter_ national security-wouldn't it? Because of the whole...saving the _world_...thing."

"Hmm," May hums noncommittally as she hangs another ornament.

Shit. It _had_ been the wrong answer.

"It really-it wasn't anything...major," I rush to fix it. "I mean, it was, but I...my part was small. _Crucial_ , but small...and uh, mostly away from the danger. Mr. Stark insisted."

"Did he?"

Crap, she's still using that tone. Not good. Definitely not good.

I reach for one of the crappy homemade ornaments I made when I was six and duck around the other side of the tree. "Y-yeah. He made sure that I stayed safe."

 _You're welcome, Mr. Stark_ , I think. Although I seriously owe him so much, talking him up to Aunt May is the least I can do.

"So, there's nothing you want to talk about then?"

"Uh...no?"

May sighs, coming to my side of the tree. "Peter, I'm just a little worried about you. You've been...quieter since you came home. And now with you possibly getting sick...I just want to make sure you're okay. And I don't care if whatever happened last week is _classified_. Screw classified. If you need to talk about it, then you talk about it. Ok?"

I force a small smile onto my face. "Ok. I'm fine, May. I promise. Just...a little stressed and tired from homework and finals and all that. Speaking of which, I should probably get back to my essay. Need help cleaning up?"

I try to ignore how her face falls slightly with disappointment. "No, I got this. You get back to your homework. I'll clean up."

She stands back, looking at our handiwork.

"Not bad, is it?"

I look at it too, with its unkempt branches, its crooked star, its mismatched strings of lights and random ornaments bedecking every remaining surface.

"No," I give her a quick side hug. "Not bad at all."

I head to my room and close the door quietly behind me, letting out a long, slow breath as I wrap my arms around myself and shiver.

I shuffle weakly forward and collapse onto my bed without a second glance at the mountain of homework waiting for me on my desk. Despite the massive workload, and the fact that I haven't done a single assignment today, there is no way I am getting any homework done.

I am exhausted, completely drained of all my energy, physically, mentally… Getting through the school day, having to get all those tests done, wandering in the snow to get the tree, it had all been too much, and my body was completely done. I draw the hood of my sweatshirt up over my head and burrow under my blankets. My bed is covered in every single spare one I could find around the house, making my mattress look more like a nest than anything else.

I wish people would stop noticing how different I've been acting.

I wish they'd stop trying to get me to talk about it.

I don't want to talk about it.

I want to forget it ever happened.

I want to go back to the way things were.

I want to remain blissfully ignorant and pretend that there isn't a parasite living in my chest, slowly trying to spread across my body and take over.

I let out a despondent sigh. The moment I close my eyes, I fall instantly asleep and begin to dream.

* * *

" _Your attempt to neutralize the threat was unsuccessful_."

"Thanks, Karen," I say breathlessly, thankful for the mask covering my nose and mouth as dust and bits of debris rain down."I could tell."

" _You're welcome, Peter._ "

"You really gotta work on being able to understand sarcasm," I shake my head dizzily, my lenses contracting slightly as I try to reorient myself.

A metal beam above me suddenly shifts, coming loose with a crunch of sound. It falls, the metal ringing with the air rushing past it, and I roll, my body moving faster than my brain as I twist up and away. The impact of the beam shakes the ground beneath me and sends more clouds of dust shooting up.

Battle. Alien monster. Avengers. Right.

"Whew, that was close," I shoot to my feet and quickly scan my surroundings.

The blow I had received had sent me careening into an unfinished remodel of a towering apartment complex. Man, I was lucky I hadn't brought down the whole building.

" _Still with us, Underoos_?" Tony's voice is light, but I can hear strain tracing it.

We are losing this battle.

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm good," I say it twice, like it'll somehow make it more true.

I turn and there in the distance is the battle worn intersection that was Alan Street and 1st Avenue. The civilians had long since cleared out, which is really good because this place is an absolute _wreck_.

"Oh _man_ ," I breathe before swinging out into the chaos. Not that this particular intersection wasn't always chaos with its seven lanes of traffic and an almost never ending amount of construction projects. An alien menace certainly didn't help.

Aliens. I am fighting an _alien_ alongside the Avengers. Ned is not going to believe this.

I'm not sure I believe it.

But there it is in the middle of the intersection, the alien who calls itself Venom, fighting the Black _freaking_ Widow like she is nothing but a novice. I make my way towards the fight, both awed and terrified. Black Widow's body dodges and twists with an effortlessness I can only dream of achieving as twisting ropes of glistening black shoot out at her from the hulking figure.

Its mouth opens, revealing an overly extended jaw and rows of enormous white fangs. It snarls, a gurgling kind of sound, and then lunges for her with its claws.

Black Widow's fist meets its jaw with a crack I can hear from down the street, but the alien barely flinches as it tackles her to the ground. Oh _shit_.

There are those teeth again, and a slimy, overly long tongue, _gross_ , descending towards the assassin, but bright repulsor rays blast into it, and it's rearing back. Ironman descends from the sky, sending blast after blast from his palms. "Sorry to intrude on your makeout session Natasha, but there are children present."

My face reddens slightly under my mask, knowing he means me. I swing forward faster, eager to help and prove myself.

Black Widow doesn't miss a beat, but places her palms on the ground on either side of her head, and then her lower body is performing a spinning kick that knocks Venom back while she regains her footing.

"Would it surprise you if I said I've dated worse?"

"You? Not a bit. You dated Barton, didn't you?" Ironman is firing missiles now that Black Widow is clear. She pulls out a pair of guns that were strapped to her thighs and begins laying down her own fire.

" _She didn't, and_ hey," Hawkeye's voice sounds in my earpiece. I don't know where he is, but arrows begin to descend from somewhere up above.

Bullets and missiles and arrows sink harmlessly into the oily black skin and vanish, the impact only sending Venom stumbling back a few feet. The alien grins.

"Okaaaay," Tony draws out the word. "Ideas?"

Venom turns, and seizing a hunk of broken concrete, hurls it at Ironman. He dodges, but the side of it clips him as it barrels past, and I hear him curse.

"Karen, taser webs," I release my line I was swinging from, and front flip to land on the SUV next to Black Widow. My AI complies, and I am firing twin strands of pulsing blue webs straight at Venom. They attach to its chest and crackle with electricity.

The alien's claws reach up suddenly, seizing both webs and pulling them back with a violent snap. A second too late I realize those strands are still attached to my wrists, and then I am flying towards it with a startled, " _Whoa_!"

Then the fangs are inches from my face, and massive claws are curling around me, pinning my forearms to my ribs. My hands fly up automatically, pushing at its overly large chest, but my palms and fingers instantly sink into its inky flesh.

"Ugh, _gross_!" I can't help but cry out, even as the claws squeeze tighter, driving the breath from my lungs and sending pain shooting across my ribs.

My hands sink deeper, and my lenses suddenly widen with my eyes as I come into contact with something solid, something definitely _human_ inside of the writhing black mass.

Red, white, and blue fill my vision as something slices into the blackness and sticks with a loud thwack. The claws release me as Venom shrieks in pain. Air whooshes into my lungs almost painfully, and I land on the ground, flipping back out of reach.

Captain America's shield is embedded halfway through the alien's shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?" he asks, jumping into the air and slamming both feet into its chest. Venom flies back and crashes into the ground, the impact creating a small crater in the middle of the street.

"Did I miss anything?" Captain America holds up his forearm, and his shield rips free of the alien's shoulder and flies back towards him.

Ironman descends, palms still raised towards the crater. "Oh we've just been trying to make friends with the thing. Nat here tried to give it a kiss, and Spidey got a hug. Lots of progress. I think it's working."

"I can see that," Captain America replies. "So we have no idea how to take it out."

"Well, Cap, maybe you should buy it dinner and see where that gets you."

"This is all very cute," says Black Widow, sounding anything but amused. "But how exactly are we going to destroy something that can't be destroyed? It's absorbing everything we throw at it."

"There's someone in there," I blurt out, and three pairs of eyes turn to me.

"Impossible," Ironman cuts in quickly. "F.R.I.D.A.Y's scans showed nothing but the alien life form."

"Neither did Karen's," I reply just as quick. "But I'm telling you, I felt someone inside of that thing."

" _Guys-_ "

"Are you sure you weren't feeling its- I don't know-skeleton? Internal organs maybe? Hell, another alien life form?"

" _Guys-_ "

"Mr. Stark, I don't mean to argue, but unless its internal organs have a face, I'm pretty sure-"

" _I swear to god, if you guys don't stop arguing for five freaking seconds, I'm going to let this thing eat you_!" Hawkeye's shout has us whirling. Arrow after arrow sinks into Venom's chest, exploding one after one, knocking it back a few feet every time it tries to advance. It snarls furiously, and Ironman begins adding his own explosions to the mix.

"Whether the kid's right or not, he may have just given us a plan," says Captain America.

"Whatever's inside it could be vulnerable, a weak spot," Black Widow agrees. "You boys keep up the fire power, we get in close."

"Didn't get close enough last time, Romanov?," Ironman adds his repulsor beams to the firepower slamming into the increasingly pissed alien. "Hoping to get a little more tongue?"

Black Widow and Captain America are already charging forward, dodging debris and overturned cars as Hawkeye and Ironman send everything they have at Venom, whose body is writhing and undulating with every hit. No one seems to notice I've been left out of this plan.

"Keep talking, Stark, and _you'll_ be the one going inside that thing."

"Ooh hard pass."

The explosions intensify as Captain America makes his way around the alien, intending to attack from behind. I fire off a web at the nearest building, pulling myself up to the roof top, wanting to be both out of the way and to have a better vantage point in case they need me.

I watch as Ironman and Hawkeye increase their firepower, and the moment they stop, Black Widow is directly in front of the alien. Cap drives his shield into the back of Venom's neck, and as it rears back, screeching, Black Widow shoves her gauntleted fists deep into its chest, igniting the electrical charges lining her wrists.

The alien writhes in pain, whereas before, electricity didn't seem to bother it. It seems to separate, the black mass splitting into undulating ropes moving away from the Black Widow's sting. I lean forward, eyes wide as something begins to emerge beneath the blackness.

With a grunt, Black Widow forces her arms in deeper, and begins to push outwards. Venom's shrieks increase, and then suddenly there is another scream rising along with it.

"Holy shit!" I exclaim as a young man's face is suddenly visible amongst the black, crying out in pain from the electrical charge.

Black Widow draws back, surprised, and her hesitation costs her.

With a fierce, furious bellow, Venom strikes, backhanding the assassin and sending her flying. Iron-man soars to catch her as the alien turns on Cap, ripping the shield from the back of its neck and slamming it into the side of Captain America's head. He drops to the ground, and the alien advances.

It begins to reform, the black flesh slowly knitting together to smother the human victim's screams, but I have already fired a web and leapt off the edge of the building.

I swing, my body gaining momentum faster and faster until the world is a blur around me.

" _What the hell are you doing_?" comes Hawkeye's shout.

"Incoming!" I can't help but shout as I let go of the web, and dive head first into the alien.

The speed and force of my body's impact is what makes my idiotically rash decision work. If I had gone any slower, if I had not moved at that exact moment, I know instantly this would have ended terribly.

I sink into Venom, my momentum carrying me forward and through as I wrap my arms around the civilian's waist and tear through the other side. We both crash into the hard cement, and though I try to take the brunt of the impact, we roll, tumble and skid across the unforgiving asphalt.

"Whoa, wipeout," I mutter dizzily as I shake my head, pushing myself up onto my hands and knees.

The guy lying next to me is gasping for air, his face stark white and terrified. Holy crap, he looks like he could go to my high school! What the hell was he doing inside of an _alien_?

Inhuman, high pitched shrieks tear across the intersection, and I lift my head to see that Venom has been reduced to a huge horde of twisting black tendrils, like someone had dumped a shipping container's worth of black snakes in the middle of the street.

It begins to surge for us.

"Shit!" I cry out, raising my arm, but before it reaches us, a volley of explosive arrows barrel into it.

" _Get the hell out of there!_ " Hawkeye orders from my earpiece.

I lunge for the civilian next to me, slinging his arm over my shoulder and dragging him to his feet. I put my arm around his waist, and then I am half running, half dragging him past the wreckage away from the battle.

"I think we may have pissed it off," calls Ironman from behind me.

" _Just keep shooting_!"

"Kid, look out!"

Something curls around my waist, and I only have time to shove the civilian away from me before I am yanked sharply backwards. My body goes flying, and before I can twist, or fight, or try to yank the black rope like substance off of me, my back is slamming onto the concrete, driving the air from my lungs.

My eyes widen in panic as darkness fills my vision, the horde of writhing black descending upon me, wrapping around my feet, my ankles, my shins, as ropes of it pin my arms to the ground before I can try to tear myself free.

" _Kid_!"

"Peter!"

I struggle, crying out through clenched teeth as I try to pull away, as I use all my strength to yank my arms out of its grip, but the ropes cinch tighter, harsher around me as it heaves itself higher, to my chest.

It's _freezing_.

The scene around me begins to waver, the edges going fuzzy and blurred. One moment, I am pinned to the street, rubble and half demolished buildings towering above as Ironman soars down from the sky, a glint of red and gold against the gray. The next, I am in a dark, dingy room, scientists looming all around me, a faceless man with a dark syringe in one hand gripping me by the neck.

I gasp raggedly, pain coursing through my body as the darkness covers me, rising higher and higher as my struggles begin to slow. I feel the ice like a dagger to my chest, the alien not only around me, but _in_ me.

My back digs into the rocky asphalt.

My back arches against an upright table, fighting the weighted straps pinning me down.

Mr. Stark is shouting my name, but I am gagged with a rubber bar strapped around my head. No, not a bar, it's one of those black ropes, constricting around my jaw.

There are gray clouds above, framing the skyscrapers and apartment buildings circling the intersection.

It's blindingly bright, the wind whipping snow around massive, white mountain peaks.

I am in the streets, fighting an alien with the Avengers.

I am in a cell, fighting against armed soldiers alone.

I can't think straight, can't tell what's real and what isn't. The only consistency in the barrage of images and sensations are the tendrils of black consuming me, suffocating me.

The darkness covers me entirely, blinding me and dousing all the images and sounds as abruptly as someone blowing out a candle.

For a moment, there is nothing but cold and quiet and dark.

Then I open my eyes.

A frigid wind blasts against me, its whistle sharp and echoing as it lifts bits of debris and dust from the silent, battle wrecked street.

I am standing amongst the rubble, my chest heaving, my hands curled into fists at my side.

All around me are the scattered bodies of the Avengers.

I know immediately they are all dead, their eyes glassy and lifeless, their forms broken and bleeding. Black Widow's is draped over Captain America's near an overturned car, and Hawkeye's lies alone near one of the buildings, his limbs splayed like he fell from a great height. Ironman's suit is completely demolished, his helmet crushed near my feet.

I look at Tony Stark's face, his expression frozen in pained horror, blood dripping from his lips.

And it isn't just the Avengers, I realize, as I look around me. Bodies litter the ground in every direction, as far as the eye can see. Aunt May, Ned, Michelle, Happy...even my teachers and classmates are amongst the broken, battered dead.

Blood drips down from my clenched fists to splatter onto the concrete.

Directly before me is a towering building, its windows so reflective, they might as well be mirrors.

I stare at my pale white eyes, so stark against my black, coarse skin. My mouth suddenly stretches into a horrifying grin, revealing a mouth full of bloodstained fangs.

* * *

My eyes shoot open.

I can't move.

Oh god, why can't I move?

Panic cinches around my chest, making it impossible to breathe, and I begin to kick and flail against the heavy bonds constricting me to the bed. I lurch back,my entangled legs kicking out, and suddenly I am free, my back resting against the wall as I struggle to catch my breath.

I'm in my room.

I'd been trapped and tangled under my heap of blankets, not leather straps or black ropes of ice.

I let out a long breath, gripping my head in my hands.

It was just a dream.

Something warm and wet trickles down my upper lip, and I wipe at it, bringing my fingertips to my eye level.

Blood.

A chill shudders down my spine, and I force myself to stumble out of bed towards my desk, where I know a tissue box is buried beneath the papers and binders filled with notes.

Holy _shit_.

I don't know if I have _ever_ had a dream that vivid, that real. Even now that I am awake, I can feel the images lingering raw in my mind, more like a memory than a nightmare.

My hand closes around the cardboard box, and I draw it out of the heap, seizing a handful of tissues and dabbing at the blood dripping from my nostril. I toss them in the trash, and glance at my clock.

3:56 A.M.

I let out a long, weary sigh.

There will be no going back to sleep after that. I have to be up for school in a few hours anyways. I trudge to the bathroom and take a long, scalding hot shower, staying in there and trying not to think about my dream until the water starts to turn cold.

When I re-enter my bedroom, I flick on the lights and head for my desk to get some homework done since I am up.

My essay lays before me, and I tap on the surface with the back of my pen, but no words come. Everytime I try to think back to the book I read, to the notes I had downloaded, my mind inevitably drifts to my nightmare.

I think of that horrifying, monstrous face, those fangs and claws.

I think of how it felt, when they belonged to me.

I think of all the bloodied corpses at my feet.

And how I'd felt nothing at all.

* * *

 **A/N: Happy New Year!**

 **I thought in honor of New Year's, I'd surprise you all with a quick update! :)**

 **I hope you all enjoyed it, and that you had a great New Year's! I spent mine hanging with my bestie and doing some writing. Please let me know what you thought of the chapter! I had actually written that dream sequence way before writing Paint it Black, only not as a dream, so I was super excited that I was able to work it into this story, because it was really fun to write.**

 **Special thanks to PippinStrange, who as you all know is the best beta on the planet, no...wait, definitely the universe. She's an even better writer, so go read her fic Down Came the Rain if you are in need of a good fanfic fix! Her Peter Parker is sooooooo amazing!**

* * *

 **Thank you to all who reviewed! You guys, believe it or not, inspired me to sit down for HOURS last night and write another chapter, one I am super duper excited about. So thank you! Reviews really are magical. And because you guys are so awesome, I've decided to do personal replies here again.**

 **DarylDixon'sLover: :)**

 **StarStepper: Hope it didn't disappoint!**

 **PippinStrange: OMG thank you! It seriously makes my heart swell to hear that! :) I want so badly for everyone to stay in character!**

 **GinaBoo: Thank you so much! I love hearing that it reads like the movies. Hope you enjoyed the bit of action!**

 **MewWinx96: I'm so glad you are enjoying it so far! Good luck with your own writing as well!**

 **TeamCaptain2016: Wow! I am SO honored! Really, made my day to hear that this was the first thing you did when you got your Wifi back!**

 **Monkeybaby: Hope you liked it!**

 **Guest: Thanks!**

 **Gandalf537: Omg thank you sooooooo much! Seriously makes me want to explode with giddiness whenever I hear that my writing sounds even remotely similar to Marvel. Fabulous review, so THANK YOU! Much love! That was one of my favorite parts too! It was actually the first thing I wrote for that chapter!**

* * *

 **Coming Up:**

 **Chapter Six: We Three Kings**

 **Tony, Sam, and Rhodes travel overseas to take down a Hydra operative**


	6. We Three Kings

**Chapter Six: We Three Kings**

 **Tony Stark**

 _"Target is approaching_."

"Alright, buckle up, ladies. It's showtime. Everyone clear on the plan?"

Sam's irritated voice comes through my helmet. " _For the last time, I am not masquerading as a call girl so you two can slip past security_."

"I'm not seeing the problem, here. You're obviously the prettiest out of the three of us," I reply with a smirk I know he can hear through my voice. The screen embedded in the faceplate of my helmet zooms in and highlights the vehicle rolling up the long, rounded driveway.

" _And I'm not denying that. Doesn't change the fact that my answer is still a resounding hell no._ "

" _Is there a reason we can't just fly up and bust down the door?_ " Rhodes asks impatiently.

"Because we aren't savages, Rhodey. God, does anyone have any understanding for the intricacies of dramatic entrances? Just follow my lead. I'm taking point on this mission."

The enhanced audio in my suit allows me to hear the whine of the brakes, the crunch of the gravel as the car slowly comes to a halt just in front of the set of stone stairs leading up to the large, intricately carved mahogany door.

The mansion surrounding that door is gaudy, over the top, with Victorian style turrets, elaborate trim, and massive windows topped with stained glass panels. It's the mansion of a man who thinks too highly of himself, but who also has terrible and outdated taste. But what else would you expect from a member of the British Parliament?

" _I'm sorry, but if anyone is taking point on this mission, it would be me_ ," Sam argues, and I see a glint of light reflecting off of his suit's wings atop the roof behind one of the turrets. " _Anyone else get locked up in a floating prison in the middle of the ocean for the last five months? No? Just me?_ "

I roll my eyes beneath my helmet, watching as a beefy looking chauffeur opens the car door, and a balding, bespectacled man steps out, adjusting his suit jacket over his unfortunately large gut. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., run facial recognition."

The A.I. obeys, the screen zooming in and encircling the man's face, jowls and all.

" _Facial recognition confirmed. That is Nigel Denison, age sixty two, member of the British Parliament_ ," F.R.I.D.A.Y. informs me.

"And also a Hydra sympathizer and investor," I mutter as Denison trudges up the stairs and disappears into the manor.

Rhodes clears his throat. " _Not to discount your little stint in prison or anything Sam, but uh, do I really need to say anything about why I deserve to take point here? Who resulted in who getting shot out of the sky and basically crippled?_ "

The heavy silence on Sam's end is disgruntled and guilty. But Rhodey isn't done.

" _And who's spent the better part of five months relearning to walk, training, basically destroying their body only to be left behind when freaking Hydra decided to_ -"

"Okay! Jesus! We get it. You're taking point."

" _Thank you_ ," his voice oozes in self satisfaction.

Christ, he's already pulling the gimp card. I roll my eyes. As if me or Wilson can top the fact that he nearly lost the use of his legs. Nor is he letting me forget that I chose not to inform him about the last couple of missions to rescue the kid or take down Ross.

"What's the plan then, buddy?"

" _You hack into their systems, take out security alarms and cameras. Wilson, you take out the armed guards walking the perimeter_."

"And you, oh fearless leader?"

" _I'm going to go introduce our friend here to War Machine."_

* * *

The security measures and firewalls are a joke. It takes F.R.I.D.A.Y. less than thirty seconds to tear through them and disable everything. A quick glance proves Wilson is easily handling the goons, so I make to follow Rhodey, who has entered the mansion with all the finesse of a herd of elephants.

Firing up my thrusters, I soar across the open drive, saluting Wilson as I go, who is busy slamming his fist into a large man's temple.

I shake my head as I fly over the shattered door and land in the hallway, stepping over the bodies of more guards and striding for the study. "Sentry mode," I order as I step out of the suit and leave it in the hall.

War Machine has both fists raised, guns and blasters all aimed at Nigel Denison, who is seated at his overly large desk, _also_ mahogany, I note.

Everything in this goddamn manor screams, look at me, I have money, which I am absolutely not against, but when it's done right, not with an outdated, posh design that makes it glaringly obvious we are standing in a wealthy British man's abode. Marble tile, carved wooden arches, a roaring fireplace that could easily fit four grown men, and _my god,_ an actual bear rug in front of it.

Denison sneers at my approach, his lip curling over his overly white teeth. "Mr. Stark, I should have known."

God, could he be any more of a cliché British villain? All he's missing is the ugly ass cat in his lap to stroke while he monologues about how evil he is.

"Mr. Denison," I mock in my own British accent which, huh, is not bad.

"Excuse me, _hi_. We were talking," Rhodey reminds him, his voice laced with irritation. He shoots me a look through his helmet, clearly reminding _me_ that he is in charge here.

Someone's still touchy about all the action he missed.

Denison turns his glare to him, his back remaining straight in his leather chair. "I have already told you, I _refuse_ to speak to a bunch of gormless barbarians who break down my door and threaten my wellbeing"

I feel the words rise to my tongue, and it is an actual, physical effort to keep myself from telling Rhodey 'I told you so'.

"Oh, you're gonna talk, pal. Trust me on that one. Whether it's here in your snooty little study or in a prison cell is entirely up to you," says Rhodes.

"You have no authority here," Denison replies, completely unphased. "I hear your associates' actions had a rather detrimental effect on their freedom. I'd just hate to see the same happen to such... _fine_ , upstanding citizens such as yourselves."

"Sarcasm? Really?" Rhodes steps closer, getting into the man's personal space. "Well, let me tell you what I hear, Nigel. I hear that those associates of ours? They are free as birds and about to receive pardons. And Secretary Ross? The guy that locked them up? Turns out he was a Hydra sympathiser, and you know what? He told us he had friends. _Lots_ of friends."

I watch Denison's face slowly lose its color, even though he keeps his gaze steady, confident.

"Are you suggesting that I am one of those 'friends'?" the man scoffs. "What basis do you found your accusations on? What proof? The word of a delusional old man, fallen from grace? Disappointing, Mr. Rhodes."

"For your information, he gave us a lot more than just names. He gave us the account numbers, the hidden files he had on each of his partners. We aren't here for more proof. We're here to take your ass to prison," Rhodes places his hands on the man's desk, leaning forward threateningly.

That's when the fear lights up in Denison's eyes. He looks like he might be sick, or maybe wet himself. God, I hope the man has more dignity than that. Although I might pay him to hurl all over Rhodey's boots.

"You...you're lying."

"Am I? You think we'd be here, knocking out your second rate guards otherwise? Ready to chat now, Nigel?"

Denison raises his chin defiantly, the light glinting against his beady eyes, his large teeth. "No. You are about to be _far_ too preoccupied for that."

" _Did we invite anyone else to this party_?" Wilson's voice echoes from Rhodey's helmet.

Rhodes glances at me, and I frown. "There's no one else on the invite list, no."

 _"Maybe someone should tell the party crashers that. We got incoming. Lots of it."_

"Wouldn't happen to be our old pals, Hydra, would it?" I ask, my eyes boring into Denison, who is looking all too pleased with himself.

" _Affirmative. There's a small fleet of the bastards coming in from the west and east sides. You better get your asses out here."_

Rhodes looks at Denison, then back at me. "You babysit chauncy over here. We'll handle the real work."

He ignites his thrusters, and soars out of the study to join Wilson.

I walk forward, my hands in my pockets. Denison watches me with poorly disguised triumph.

Looks like I get to be the one to burst his bubble.

Goody.

"You do realize he was bluffing, don't you? All that," I gesture back towards the study doors Rhodey just exited. "about the hidden files and account numbers? Total bullshit. We didn't have anything but your name. And you just confirmed everything by calling Hydra to your front door."

I pat his shoulder pityingly as his face drops, his eyes widening in horror, in realization that he'd been utterly played. "I...you- _he_ -"

"It's ok, I often render people speechless," I assure him. "Suck it up though, pal. We really do have to chat. I need the files you have on Hydra and you might as well make it easier on yourself. Keep that wide butt of yours in your over-sized desk chair, and tell me what I want to know. There's no way this ends well for you."

The rapid fire of guns discharging and small explosions sound off way in the distance.

A mottled flush has spread across Denison's furious face. "I am not giving you _anything_. Those forces will slaughter your friends, and then come for you. I promise you that, Stark."

"Starting to lose my patience a bit, Nigel. The files?"

"Not here. You aren't going to help your friends?" Denison sneers, his head jerking toward the window, to the distant sound of gunfire.

"Nope. Now scooch over," I shove his desk chair away hard enough that it spins rapidly before slamming into the wall. Denison makes a rather undignified sound at the impact, but I am already flipping up his laptop. "Pretty high tech for a prissy old Brit, don't you think?"

I can feel him scowling at me, and I crack my knuckles before placing my fingers on the touchpad keys.

I pause.

If I were a hoity-toity, double crossing, Bond villain wanna-be, would I keep my secret files in my computer?

Hell no.

Slowly, I straighten, my eyes scanning the stuffy, Victorian study with sudden interest. I can feel Denison's eyes on me as I begin to move around the room. I'm tempted to bring the suit in and have F.R.I.D.A.Y. scan the walls and floors for me, but what fun would that be?

Several explosions sound off beyond the perimeter of the property, loud and violent enough that the window panes rattle against their frames.

"That didn't sound good, did it? If I were you-"

"Luckily for both of us, you're not," I say distractedly, my hands brushing against the spines of the myriad of books lining the shelves along the walls, most of which look like first editions, but knowing this idiot, are nothing quite as unique.

It _could_ be a hidden entrance through the bookcase by lifting one of the volumes from the shelf...

But I doubt it.

This extensive library is most likely for show, like the rest of this ridiculous place.

Which leaves…

I turn towards the fireplace, practically giddy as I spot the tarnished brass sconces on either side of the mantle.

Denison's voice wavers ever so slightly when he speaks next, giving me all the confirmation I need as I step towards them. "You're making a huge mistake, Stark. Going after the wrong people. You-"

"If I were a gambling man," I take another step closer to the fireplace, enjoying the sight of his widening eyes probably more than I should. "And I definitely am, I would bet that there is more to this room than meets the eye. Which, thank god for that, because you must have found your interior designer somewhere in the mid nineteenth century."

Just for fun, I run my hand along the marble mantle, across the absurdly carved peacocks and bountiful bowls of fruit, and watch Denison's shoulders relax the tiniest bit.

Then my hand shoots to the metal sconce to the right of the hearth, my fingers curling around the narrow base of it, and pull down.

It comes forward with a satisfying clank of noise, and I can't help myself. My face lights up as I say, "Well, how 'bout that?"

There's the sound of stone grating against stone, the muffled groan of gears grinding together, and then one of the smaller bookcases swings gently open to reveal a tall, narrow safe.

Bingo.

"Step away from there!" Denison demands, his face pale and panic stricken as his white knuckled hands grip the arms of his chair so he can stand.

"Ah-ah-ah," I warn, gesturing with my hand for him to sit back down. "What did we talk about?"

His teeth clench together tightly, his expression a mixture of furious and terrified as he slowly forces himself back into his chair. I've seen that look before many times. It's a look that says 'I'm royally screwed, and I know it.' One of my personal favorites.

I raise my hand, calling my gauntlet to me, and the moment the metal encases my palm and forearm, I am wrapping my fingers around the edge of the safe's door and yanking it off its hinges. It falls with a loud thud, sending reverberations through my feet, cracking the marble tiles, and rattling the books on their shelves.

Denison makes an indignant squeak at the sight of his damaged floors, though that is definitely the least of his problems.

There's a distant whine that ends in a loud explosion out on the lawn outside, filling the study with orange light and sudden heat. I'm not particularly concerned. Rhodes and Wilson can handle themselves, and they'd call for me if assistance was really needed. They were probably enjoying themselves, releasing all that pent up aggression and fury on the Hydra soldiers.

Maybe after this they'd both be more pleasant to be around.

"Sure you don't want to confess to anything?" I say as I peer into the safe. "Before I drudge up your deepest, darkest secrets for the world to see?"

I glance back at him. "You're looking a little-how do you people say it?-peaky? Maybe you should make yourself a cup of tea there, Nigel."

My eyes light on the crystal decanter resting in the safe. "Ah, here we go! Something a little stronger than tea. You have glasses?"

I spot a pair of them resting on a small accent table near an atrociously garish lamp and promptly pour us both two fingers worth. Handing him his glass, I take note of his tight face, his pale pallor, the beads of sweat forming on his temples as he glances towards the explosive fight happening outside, then back to me. The man is practically squirming in his seat.

"We told you how this was going to end," I remind him, my eyes narrowing as a familiar anger grips me. "You should have listened."

I take a swig, and grimace as I swallow. "Lordy, no wonder you're such a corrupt son of a bitch, if you're drinking that horse piss. You call that a whiskey?"

Denison's nervous face twists into an outraged scowl, but I set my glass down on his desk and turn back to the safe.

It's chock full of paper files, as well as several small disks and thumb drives. I have no doubt that it has all the proof we need of his association with Hydra, and we will cart it all to the quinjet when we are done here.

"You can't do this," Dension interjects finally, his voice quivering with resentment and despair. "You have no warrant, no right-None of this will hold up in a court of law, I tell you. It-it can easily be proved that anything you find in there are false documents-planted evidence in order to aid a-a-quarrel that has nothing to do with me...You-"

I let him ramble on, not listening to a goddamn word of it.

Nigel Denison had been one of the names Wanda had... _retrieved_ from Secretary Ross at the Raft. As I flip through a nondescript looking file, my eyes scanning through the numbers and monetary jargon, I realize that he was one of the key investors in that Russian facility, that he and Ross had been the primary funders.

Nigel is still babbling.

Another file holds blackmail on several other members of Parliament, to no doubt pressure them into changing their alliances to Hydra and adding in their resources as well. My teeth clench together, my jaw tightening and blood heating as my anger begins to swell.

To me, Hydra had always been just another terrorist organization, intolerable, sure, abhorrent, _definitely_. But the personal vendetta, the raging need for retribution? That had been Steve's thing. Not mine.

Until they decided to take the kid.

Now?

Now even an icon on a t-shirt or a band album cover slightly resembling a skull with a serpentine nature set my blood boiling, my pulse racing.

And as I hold that file of blackmail in my hands, I realize suddenly, that Denison isn't talking anymore.

There's a sharp click that tears through the sudden silence, and I look up from the file I am holding to see Denison standing behind his desk, his teeth bared, eyes wild…

...and a pistol in his hand, aimed straight at me.

I stiffen, dropping the file, ready to shoot my palm straight up and blast him before he can pull the trigger, but my gaze turns to a pair of glowing eyes in the window just behind him.

There's an explosion of shattered glass as War Machine bursts through the window pane, seizing Denison's arm in one of his metal gauntleted fists, and twisting it up sharply. Nigel cries out in pain, the pistol clattering to the floor with the remaining shards of glass.

"I had that," I say automatically, picking up and tossing the file back into the safe.

"How about a, 'Thank you, War Machine. I am forever in your debt.'?" Rhodes says, his voice distorted slightly through the suit as Nigel continues to whimper in his grip. "Do you always have to be like this?"

"That would imply that you saved my life. Which, no, you didn't. I had that under control."

He snorts. "Oh, yeah, sure you did. He had a gun aimed at your head, Tony. You were just standing there, and he was going to put a bullet in your brain. You're welcome. It's okay to admit that I'm your hero. Doesn't make you less of a man. "

"He really did save your life, you know," Nigel agrees through clenched teeth, his arm still twisted painfully in Rhodey's grip. "I would have killed you."

"Shut the hell up," Rhodes and I say at the same time, then Nigel is tossed back into his chair, which rolls across the broken glass to slam into the wall.

"Did you find the dirt on this weasel?" Rhodes asks me.

"And then some," I jerk my head toward the safe. "Hydra?"

"Sam's-"

My eyes widen as a dark shape comes barrelling towards us through the broken window just beyond Rhodey. I dive to the side as the body of a Hydra soldier comes hurtling past me to slam against the mantle and land in a crumpled heap at the foot of the fireplace.

Wilson soars through just after, his metal wings curling protectively around his body as he spins past the jagged glass of the window wings of his suit flare wide as he hovers in the center of the room before tucking neatly at his side. His boots hit the floor, the firelight glaring against his reflective goggles.

"Sam's finished," Wilson concludes for Rhodey. "Persistent bunch of bastards, but we got them. Clean up crew is heading this way now."

I get to my feet, brushing off bits of debris and shattered glass.

Well, at least the pair of them took my notes on dramatic entrances.

"Good work, team," I say, closing the safe and glancing over at Denison, his shoulders slumped defeatedly, and who is now knocking back the whiskey I had poured him like his life depended on it.

Another one bites the dust.

* * *

 **A/N: This chapter had given me problems for what felt like the longest time, but it finally came together with some help from your beta, PippinStrange! I hope you guys enjoyed it! Please leave me your thoughts below! Your amazing reviews this week so far have sent me on a writer's high that allowed me to write the next few chapters! They really do make a difference, and you guys get faster updates as a result! Win-win! :D So thank you in advance for leaving a review below!**

 **And now for the usual gushing about your beta! Can't do this without her people, as she was the one who inspired me to start writing with her amazing story Down Came the Rain. AMAZING I tell you.**

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 **Nataku2709: Thanks! I hope so too! :O**

 **Heroes21: OMG I am fangirling over your review! That makes me so happy how excited you are for updates and the rest of the story. THANK YOU!**

 **MewWinx96: Thank you so much! I feel awful for Peter too. I am really putting him through the ringer in my stories. And it's only going to get worse from here...**

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 **TeamCaptain2016: I just can't handle your super kind reviews! Thank you! (And no such thing as too many exclamation points in reviews ;D) I find writing in first person to be the easiest for me, even more so in present tense instead of past tense. As far as tips go...I always recommend reading lots of stories/books in the narration you want to improve in, to get a feel for it, and try having a good balance of internal thoughts as well as exposition and description. Changing up sentence structure is important too! Hope any of that helps, I am definitely not an expert writer and have lots of improvement to go myself. :)**

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 **Coming up:**

 **Chapter Seven: The Holly and the Ivy**

 **Back to Peter we go! This chapter has a little bit of everything: MJ, Ned, a little Tony, finals, nightmares, tests at the compound, a surprise appearance from an Avenger, and Spiderman taking out some baddies. All the while things with Venom go from bad...to worse.**


	7. The Holly and the Ivy

**Chapter Seven: The Holly and the Ivy**

 **Peter Parker**

A candy bar lands on my lunch tray with a dull thud, startling me out of my zoned out thoughts. I straighten, glancing at the snickers bar with confusion, then looking up.

MJ stands there, her face utterly blank as she holds her lunch tray.

"Er...you-you dropped your candy bar," I say.

She rolls her eyes and plops down on the bench opposite me, her tray clattering on the table. "No, I didn't. It's for you."

Ned and I exchange wary, confused glances.

"Uh, thanks. But...why? What's this for?" I pick up said candy bar in my hands, like maybe holding it will make this whole situation less confusing.

"You've been super pale all day. And it looked like you were going to pass out in gym," Michelle replies as she digs into her salad. "Your blood sugar is probably too low."

"You're not you, when you're hungry," Ned intones like the snickers bar commercial as he chuckles.

I scowl at him, but peel open the candy wrapper anyways. "Thanks, MJ," I say again. It's a weird….but kind gesture. I think again to that conversation Ned and I had the day I was...the day I was taken by Hydra.

He said he thought she liked me.

 _Liked_ me, liked me.

That couldn't be true, could it? I mean, I didn't see her buying anyone _else_ candy bars. Heat rushes to the top of my ears, and I curse inwardly, hoping MJ's unusually observant eyes don't catch it.

"So….uh, are you guys ready for the Spanish final?" Ned asks after a long, semi-awkward silence. My mouth is full of chocolate, so MJ answers first.

"La pregunta es, ¿estás listo?"

Ned and I look at each other, then back at her.

"I take that as a no, then," Michelle doesn't break eye contact as she puts another bite of salad into her mouth.

"Er...yeah," I swallow, and gesture to the open Spanish textbook next to my tray, to my hastily scribbled on note cards resting on top of it. "I'm still sort of working on memorizing my presentation."

Without asking, she reaches across the table and swipes up my notecards, chewing as she flips through them with scrutinizing eyes. I stare as MJ pulls a pen from the mass of curls tied at the nape of her neck with a rubber band, and begins scribbling on one of my cards.

I turn to Ned, giving him a wide, questioning look, and he just shrugs, looking as lost as I feel.

"The spanish word for aunt is tía, not prima," she hands them back to me. "That would make her your cousin. And the format for your sentence about your Christmas traditions was off. I fixed it."

"Thanks," I say, both surprised and grateful as I set them back on my textbook. And embarrassed. Those were pretty obvious mistakes, and while I wasn't yet fluent in Spanish, I knew enough _not_ to be making those kind of errors.

There's a sudden pulse of cold within my chest, and my hand automatically jerks up to start rubbing at it. Remembering where I am and who I am sitting with, I halt with my hand halfway up, and turn it into an awkward stretch, adding a yawn for effect.

MJ simply raises a brow at me.

"I have to pee," she announces, grabbing her now empty tray. "See you losers in Spanish."

Ned and I both watch her go.

"Dude. She is so weird," Ned says first.

"I know."

"You should ask her out."

My head swivels sharply to look at him. "What?"

"Peter, she bought you candy. She fixed your Spanish. She's obviously into you," Ned takes the rest of the candy bar from my hand and takes a bite. "I say, go for it."

I pick up the note cards to avoid responding, and look at her pretty, sophisticated handwriting next to mine, which unfortunately hasn't changed much since the third grade.

Even if...even if for argument's sake I _did_ want to ask MJ out…

I stop that line of thought right there.

It's just not possible. Not...not right now. Between my makeup work, studying for finals, Christmas with May, the routine checks and tests at the compound, the brief moments I actually get to _be_ Spiderman… There's just too much. I can't handle one more thing added to my plate. Maybe, maybe eventually.

Maybe someday.

Today, I am just going to focus on getting through my Spanish final in one piece.

* * *

"Let's see," Mr. Hernandez peruses his clipboard, going over the list of students who have and haven't presented yet. We've already sat through eight speeches in this class alone. "Peter. You're up.'

I rise from my chair, pulling my note cards from my pocket as I go. Ned gives me a thumbs up of encouragement, and before I know it, I am standing in front of the long white board, facing the restless natives who just want the bell to ring and for class to be over.

"Cuando estés listo," Mr. Hernandez gestures towards the rest of the class.

I swallow thickly, glancing briefly at the note cards in my hands.

God, presentations _suck_.

Blowing out a breath, I choose not to look at the faces of my classmates, who I know from experience are looking bored, agitated, or drowsy, and keep my gaze somewhere above their heads.

"Hay muchos tipos de tradiciones navideñas. Algunas familias tienen muchas, otras muy pocas. Mi tía y yo solo... tenemos un puñado de tradiciones navideñas, pero… pero creo que la menor cantidad las hace mucho más valiosas," I begin, trying not to glance at my note cards too often.

My voice, slightly higher pitched than normal thanks to my uncertainty, rises above the faint din of the usual classroom noises: the ticking of the clock hanging above the door, the tap of Flash's foot as he mumbles an insult, no doubt directed at me, to one of his friends, the soft snores of Jacob sitting at the back of the classroom, the drum of fingertips across the smooth surface of a desk.

"...Cada año, mi tía y yo tomamos chocolate caliente y elegimos un árbol de Navidad juntos…"

 _Crack_.

I pause, my brows knitting together in confusion at the sudden, faint sound, but no one but me seems to have heard it.

"Usualmente lo decoramos esa noche-"

 _Crack_.

What is that noise?

A shiver wrecks suddenly down my spine, sending a wash of ice through my limbs. I let out a startled breath, my eyes dropping to my notecards to find my place. My hands are trembling ever so slightly.

"Uh…."

A shadow streaks across the edge of my peripherals, and my head snaps up to follow it, my senses on high alert.

But there's nothing there. Sunlight pours into the wide windows of the classroom, draping across the unruffled expressions of my classmates. Nothing out of place, no sign that anyone or anything had moved.

I am left with the distinct feeling that I am not alone.

Something is watching me.

 _Get a grip, Parker,_ I reprimand myself quickly. _You're in a classroom full of students and a teacher who ALL have their eyes on you. Of course you aren't alone. Of course you're being watched._

"Mr. Parker?" Mr. Hernandez prompts, eyebrow raised.

Giving myself a mental shake, I try to continue. "Usualmente lo decoramos esa noche y vemos una película navideña… El-El favorito de mi tía es White Christmas…"

 _Crack_.

What the _hell_ is that?

"Mr. Parker, your time is nearly out. Are you going to continue, or not?" Mr. Hernandez asks shortly, his voice devoid of patience.

"I...um...S-somos solo nosotros dos en casa...por lo que generalmente no hay una-"

"Time. Thank you, Mr. Parker. You may return to your seat."

My knotted stomach sinks beneath my feet.

All eyes are on me as I trudge miserably back to my desk, my face unbearably warm compared to the rest of me. I fall into my chair, tossing my notecards carelessly on top of my binder, and stare at the floor, unable to meet Ned's questioning gaze.

Damn it.

I hadn't even gotten halfway through my presentation.

What the hell was wrong with me? Why had I been so distracted, so rattled? This was one of the easier finals, a short speech about your holiday traditions in Spanish, delivered in front of the rest of the class. That was it. And Spanish wasn't exactly difficult for me to learn.

So what the hell just happened?

"Peter," Ned whispers from my right.

Mr. Hernandez is speaking sternly in Spanish to Jacob, who apparently had finally been caught sleeping.

"Peter," Ned tries again. "Are you ok?"

"Fine," I whisper shortly back to him, harsher than I intend to.

"Yeah, what happened up there, Penis?" I can hear the grin in Flash's low voice from several desks behind me. "You totally choked."

My teeth grind together, my jaw clenching as I keep my eyes on the grainy texture of my own desk.

"Hope being multilingual isn't on the list of requirements for that Stark internship," Flash sneers. "Because that was probably the worst Spanish I have ever heard."

I breathe sharply through my nose, my knuckles cracking as my hands ball into fists. The little heat that had been in my blood from my humiliation swiftly freezes over, leaving nothing but jagged anger in its wake.

Flash is snickering, the sound grating against my eardrums, stretching my control so taut it nearly snaps.

Jacob stands at the front of the class, yawning as he begins his presentation still half asleep, drawing Flash's attention away from me.

My pulse is heavy in my veins, pounding like a hammer beneath my skin. The cold is so potent, so biting, I feel as though I have been submerged in a frozen lake. My muscles are tense and trembling, taut like a tightrope stretched way too thin.

I'm so _angry_. I don't know if I have ever been so angry, and I can't even pinpoint _why_. Shame, frustration, the...the _unfairness_ of it all, it's all rising up too fast, condensing into this knot of emotion in my chest that is pulsing, pounding, pressing against my skin like it will claw its way out.

Jacob's voice stops, and the students around me clap half-heartedly as Mr. Hernandez begins to speak, something about practicing our Spanish more over Winter Break, but I'm not listening.

Every ounce of my focus is on keeping myself still, keeping myself contained.

The bell rings, the sound shrill and jarring.

I'm already out the door.

* * *

"Look straight ahead, please," Dr. Cho requests, leaning in as she shines a light from a slender tool directly into my eyes. "Perfect."

I crack my knuckles one after another, blinking the spots away as she straightens, setting the tool aside to pick up another, this one looking more like a high tech device from Star Trek. Her hand hovers just above my skin, the small machine emitting a faint green glow as she holds it at my temple for a moment, then slowly sweeps it across my forehead.

Dr. Cho pulls it back, frowning at it as it lets out several beeps.

"What?" I ask, rubbing my clammy palms together.

She types something into her tablet nearby, connecting the two devices with a thin chord. "It's nothing," she replies with a small smile. "Your temperature is just a little lower than last time."

Though I had guessed that it would be the case, my stomach still tightens at the news. "How much lower?"

Dr. Cho hesitates, then doesn't look up from her tablet as she replies, "One and a half degrees."

I stare at her. I definitely wouldn't call that _nothing_. I'd discovered since becoming Spiderman, my average temperature ran at about a hundred degrees, instead of the normal person's ninety-eight point six.

Since I'd returned from the Hydra facility, counting today, my body was now running at _ninety-six_ degrees.

"I don't mean to argue or anything, doc, but shouldn't my organs be starting to, I don't know, shut down at this point? I'm pretty sure this falls under the _something_ category, not nothing."

Dr. Cho looks up, her eyes warm and her lips curved, looking every bit the reassuring doctor.

I know every bit of it is a lie.

"Your body is adjusting to the lowering temperature. Your organs are still functioning fine, so it's nothing to worry about," she assures me.

Yeah. Nothing to worry about.

"Any new side effects I should be aware of? Besides the cold?"

"No."

Dr. Cho gives me a long look, then sets down her tablet. "Peter, have you talked to anyone about your experiences? Anyone at all?"

I keep my limbs relaxed to try and disguise the stiffening of my spine. "I...Mr. Stark and everyone knows what happened already...my aunt, she-she can't-"

"We know the facts. I'm asking if you've talked to anyone about it, about what happened, how you felt, how you're feeling now," her voice is unbearably warm and gentle, something about it rubbing me the wrong way.

"I'm fine."

"A grown adult with a fully developed brain would have been traumatized by what you went through. You're fifteen yea-"

"I know how old I am," I interrupt stiffly.

Dr. Cho gives me a sympathetic look. "I'm just trying to say, this line of work you're in? It doesn't come without its consequences. It takes different forms; anxiety, depression, PTSD. We've all experienced it in some way. And we can all tell you the same thing. Talking about it helps. You don't have to tell everyone, but you should tell _someone_. Make sense?"

It isn't fair of her to treat me like a child, to hide information about what is happening to my body and give me fake placations like there isn't something seriously wrong with me, then turn around and expect me to tell her my innermost thoughts. I deserve to know what's happening to me. I deserve the truth, no matter how shitty it is.

"Sure."

Dr. Cho gets the hint that I am done talking about this, and sighs softly through her nose. "Alright then, time for the full body scan. Are you ready?"

I nod, ignoring the wave of dizzying nausea that hits as I lay back on the cool, white table, tucking my limbs in tight around me. My teeth clench together as the table slowly moves back into the narrow tube, the white walls barely a few inches from my face.

I take steadying breaths through my nose, releasing them slowly through my mouth as the machine comes to life with a whir of sound. My stomach tightens, and I am extremely grateful that my appetite had all but vanished today, and there is hardly anything for my body to purge when this is over.

The lights come to life all around me, bright and white and searing. My eyes squeeze tightly shut, and I swear I can feel a phantom icy wind against my face. For a moment, I think if i open my eyes I will see nothing but endless, towering white peaks.

Deep, steady breaths.

The machine clicks loudly, once, twice, three times. I hold perfectly still, bracing myself for what I know comes next. A barrage of bangs as loud as assault rifles going off right by my ears fills the narrow tube, blasts against my overly sensitive eardrums. I flinch, like I always do, then force my body to freeze.

I keep my eyes shut as the lights bear down on me, taking on a greenish glow as it sweeps down my body, up and down, up and down.

Deep, steady breaths.

The machine grows louder, the lights brighter, and filling my nostrils is an overly sterile smell, the metallic tang of machinery, the remains of chemicals used to wipe down the surfaces.

Beneath the cacophony of noise around me, my ears pick up the faint sound of wheels squeaking as they are rolled down a dimly lit corridor. The walls close in around me, becoming thick straps pressing too tight against my skin.

Deep, steady breaths.

Beads of sweat slip down my temples into my hair and slide down my neck to land on the table beneath me.

It lasts hours, or minutes. I can never tell. I just know that each second is absolute hell.

By the time it ends, my ears are ringing with the echoes of the sound, aching like they are bruised, and my eyes burn even though I had kept them shut the entire time. The table slides out of the narrow tube, and I inhale sharply, like I hadn't taken one breath while I was in there.

I sit up too fast, cradling my head in my hands, trying to keep the room from spinning too wildly. I'm lightheaded, sick to my stomach, and desperate for some fresh air, to be far away from this room.

I give myself a shake, dropping my hands to my lap as Dr. Cho re-enters, her face looking concerned.

"Are you alright, Peter?"

"F-fine. Just...just a little dizzy."

"Maybe you should lay back down-"

"No! I-I mean no, no thank you. I'm fine. I'm, I'm good," I slide off the table, swaying slightly as I pass her, heading for the door.

"Are you sure? Let me get you some water-"

"I got it, thanks doc," I call over my shoulder before shutting the door firmly behind me. My heart is beating too fast in my chest, and I am freezing.

I seize my sweatshirt and jacket from where they lay on the bench just outside the examination room, yanking them on and shoving my feet into my shoes. I'm still slipping an arm through one of my sleeves when I seize my backpack by its strap and walk as quickly as I can out of the medical wing.

Deep, steady breaths.

Screw that.

I move into a jog, bursting through the double doors into the wide open common area of the Avengers compound. The massive wall of windows looms to my left, snow sparkling on every surface just beyond it.

My breath hitches in my lungs, and I swerve to my right, almost running now down one of the branching hallways, not even knowing exactly where I am headed. It's getting harder to breathe, my heart slamming against my ribcage as another wave of dizziness takes me. I probably shouldn't be moving this fast when the room around me is spinning this much.

I turn the corner, slamming straight into a chest covered in dark clothing.

Hands seize my shoulders, and I react immediately, wrapping my fingers around their forearms and spinning them to slam the man into the wall.

Pale green eyes widen. "Easy, easy!"

I freeze, my breathing ragged, and stare back, my grip on the man's arms not loosening in the slightest.

"It's me. It's Scott, remember? You probably don't recognize me without the suit and helmet, but...you toppled me over when I was wreaking havoc at that airport in Germany? I think I may have knocked you out of the sky? Crap, that probably didn't need to be mentioned. Please tell me any of this is ringing a bell, because I'm starting to lose feeling in my hands. Ow."

I let go, stepping back as Scott winces and rubs at his wrists. "Jesus, kid," he looks back up at me. "That's some grip you have."

"Sorry. I'm sorry, I-you-I didn't see you. It-it startled me. Sorry," I say lamely, completely mortified. Not only had I been caught freaking the eff out, I had just pinned one of the Avengers against the wall. I had nearly-

"It's ok," Scott adjusts his jacket and drops his hands to his sides, tilting his head slightly as he looks me over. "Are _you_ okay? You seem sort of...rattled. Oh shit, there wasn't something chasing you, was there?"

His eyes get wide as he looks around the corner where I'd come from.

My face and ears get unbearably warm. God, I am the worst. "No, no chasing. I was...I was just…er-late. Yeah, I'm-I'm running late. Don't want to get yelled at by Happy for being late...uh-again."

"Oh," Scott relaxes, then hold out his hand. "Got it. Well, since we've never formally met, I'm Scott, and I'm sorry for knocking you out of the sky."

"Peter," I say as I take it. "And I'm sorry for taking you down when you were all...enormous and whatnot. And for...just now."

"Don't worry about it," Scott waves me off. "Wouldn't be the first time I was slammed against the wall because someone thought I was attacking them."

He pauses. "Er, you can pretend I didn't say that last part. It was nice meeting you, Pete."

"Uh, yeah. I mean, you too," I say awkwardly, then spy the black duffel on the ground. I pick it up, handing it to him. "You...you're going somewhere?"

"Yep. Off on a top secret mission with the infamous Black Widow," Scott says, looking eager and pleased with himself. "Should be fun. If she doesn't kill me, that is. She's uh, never killed a partner while out on an assignment...has she?"

I shrug, giving him a look like how the hell am I supposed to know?

Scott wrinkles his nose, shaking his head as he says, "Nah. I bet she hasn't. It'll be fine. I'll be fine," he shoulders the duffel. "See you later, I guess."

"See you," I say, and we both turn away, heading in opposite directions.

Well that had been...humiliating.

But I realize suddenly that I am no longer panicking, that while I am so embarrassed I think I might die, my breathing is even, my pulse steady.

Huh.

I adjust the strap of my backpack on my shoulder as I head down the hall.

Scott, whether he knew it or not, had effectively kept me from breaking down into a full panic attack.

* * *

No.

Not again.

 _Not this._

Anything but this.

I push and strain against the weighted straps pinning me to the icy metal table beneath my back, knowing it is pointless, knowing it won't change what is about to happen.

I'm hyperventilating through my nose, thrashing as the beeping from the heart monitor grows louder, faster, shriller.

Shadows close in around me on all sides, broken only by a thin beam of dingy, greenish light straight above me. The bar shoved between my teeth is metal, not rubber, and it is so cold, so icy, it burns my mouth, my tongue, my gums.

The doctor looms over me, a silhouette of shadow framed against that strange light. I'm yelling at him through my gag, alternating between pleading for him to release me, and screaming at him with all of the broken rage pent up inside of me.

 _Not this, not this, not this..._

Something glints in his hand as he raises it towards the light.

It's not a syringe this time.

It's a knife.

I shrink back against the table, and the doctor takes a step to the side, his body shifting enough that the light falls across his face.

I stare, my eyes widening with horror as my muscles lock up in complete shock.

It's not the old man.

It's Tony Stark.

His expression is indifferent, clinical. There's a coldness in his eyes I have never seen before, and I can feel that ice spread from his gaze into my own. I begin to shake my head, with denial, with some sort of desperate plea, I don't even know.

Mr. Stark tilts his head to the side, considering me, and I can see it written in his eyes, in the lines of his hard face: all the ways I have failed him.

Please, I beg with my eyes. _Please-_

 _Not this._

The knife comes plunging down.

* * *

My breath stutters in my lungs when I wake, my heart thundering in my chest, and when the panic ebbs slightly, I realize that I have kicked off every single one of my blankets.

I shiver, frowning at the sensation in my right hand. Turning my head to the side, I see that my fingers had closed around one of the long bars of the metal frame holding my bunk together. I pry my hand off.

The metal is completely crushed.

Blinking blearily, I sit up and squint at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

2:00 A.M.

My pulse is still racing, anxiety prickling beneath my skin, and I know there will be no sleep for the rest of the night.

Before I begin to think about what I am doing, before the flashes of my nightmares or pieces of my dark memories trickle into my mind, I find myself in the suit and racing across the rooftops of Queens.

I am running as fast as I can, my feet sometimes skidding across the wet, slushy snow before leaping into the air, letting myself fall, feeling the wind slam into my body, not flipping or shooting off a web to catch myself until the last possible moment.

I run like I am being hunted, tearing across the city like I wish I would have been able to the day Hydra took me.

I swing and fly like I can outrun it all.

Slowly, my pulse begins to steady, my breath evens out.

I find myself perched on the peak of the massive arch on the Hell Gate bridge, the lights from the Triborough Bridge across the way reflecting in the icy waters below. The night is dark, cloudy, making the dusting of snow covering Astoria Park to my left look dark blue instead of white.

Icy, bitter wind whips harshly at my body, like it is furious at me for being so firmly attached to my spot on the narrow, curving beam.

I breathe it in through my mask, shivering.

Karen is unusually silent, like somehow the A.I. can sense my need for isolation, for somewhere relatively quiet to think about absolutely nothing at all. She silently supplies my suit's heater, a rush of warmth encompassing my frozen limbs.

A muffled yelp reaches my ears, barely discernible over the distant din of noise coming from the city. My head whips towards the park, my lenses narrowing, and through the bare trees lining the river's edge, I catch sight of several small figures in the distance

My senses tell me something is off, and I step off the top of the bridge.

I freefall for a moment before firing off a web to one of the thick branches of a towering oak, the web tightening as it carries me across the water and up into the tree's depths. I land in a crouch on the branch, then leap for the nearest oak, easily swinging across the trees, all long cleared of their leaves, moving further into the park.

There are more muffled shouts, and I change directions, leaping through and around the shadows of the trees, avoiding the orange lights coming from the posts running along the snow laden path until I am crouched at the edge of the massive open space in the center of the park.

My eyes move over the huge, empty swimming pool in the middle, the lampposts circling it illuminating a trio of figures near the pool's edge.

"Where's the money?" one of the men hisses, dressed in an overly large black jacket, a beanie covering his head.

Two of them have a smaller figure pressed against the railing surrounding the empty pool, and the orange glowing lights glare off of something metallic pressed against his neck.

A knife.

"I-I-I don't know!" whimpers their victim, a thin young man who looks like he's spent most of his life on the streets. "I s-swear! I-I d-don't have it!"

"Bullshit!" growls the other attacker, his hood pulled up, obscuring his face. "Kraven knows you're the one who skimmed the package, you little rat! Where. is. it."

I watch them from the cover of the trees, my lenses narrowing, focusing on their forms, on the position of the knife.

I wait for the excitement to come, that thrill of being the hero, of taking down the bad guys, but it doesn't. My mind doesn't search for clever quips or heroic poses, even though I know a spot like this gives me plenty of opportunities and material.

Instead, I feel a sharp focus honing all my senses, preparing my body to do what has to be done. I feel that knot of emotion, that icy kernel of rage within me, driving me to action, spreading a sense of urgency prickling beneath my skin. I feel it pushing me, prodding me to give it some sort of release, some sort of outlet.

So I give it one.

I fire a web to the twenty foot tall diving board, the line dragging me up rapidly until I am perched at the very top, looking down at the two men threatening the third.

They all look up at the same time, and I drop down from the sky, my legs tucked in, my arms spread back behind me.

Both attackers leap back with startled yells of surprise as I land right where they had been standing, rolling forward and slamming my fist into the hooded man's stomach. He chokes out a wheeze as he doubles over, and I drive an uppercut into his jaw, sending him flying back into the snow.

My heart is suddenly racing with adrenaline, with anticipation, with unbridled energy.

His friend charges me with a shout, his knife raised. I bend my body backwards to avoid his erratic swing, my palms pressing against the snow as I shift my weight to them and kick both feet into his chest. He stumbles back with a grunt as I use the momentum of my kick to land in a crouch. I fire a web, the sticky tendrils wrapping around his knife. Yanking it from his hand, I send it soaring into the snow with a muffled thud.

Another web shoots from my wrist, attaching to the sweatshirt of the hooded guy, still on the ground yards behind his buddy. I pull hard, and he begins screaming as his body comes flying towards me, knocking out the feet of the second man as he slams into his legs. Both fall hard onto the icy ground.

I release the web, stalking forward as I slam my fist into the hooded man's temple, knocking him out cold. The man in the black jacket whimpers, scrambling backwards in the snow as I step over his friend and move towards him.

"Please! Please don't hurt me!" he raises his hands. His red rimmed eyes are glassy, wide with fear.

I pick him up by his jacket, his hands scrabbling at my arms before I toss him backwards. His body hits one of the posts, and he slams into the ground, unconscious.

My hands are clenched into fists as I turn, spotting the third man still cowering by the railing of the old, empty pool. He lets out a squeak of fright, his feet slipping and sliding on the snow as he scrambles to his feet and takes off into the trees.

I blink, shivering, a strange sensation washing over me like I am waking up from a super vivid dream. But the scene around me doesn't change, doesn't waver. I'm completely awake.

"What the hell?" I mutter, putting a hand to my head. I look at the two men, lying unconscious in the snow, and my stomach tightens with anxiety, with nausea.

I had...I had saved that guy. These two probably would have killed him and dumped his body into the pool. They deserved to have their asses kicked...hadn't they? I'd...I'd done the right thing here, hadn't I?

I feel slightly sick. I'd let those feelings, those urges take over me without a second thought, and pummeled those guys when I could have easily webbed them up with a handful of quips and called the cops to pick them up.

Staring at my hands, I try to swallow, my throat suddenly too tight.

" _Peter_?" Karen prompts, her voice tentative. " _Your heartbeat is still accelerated, and my sensor are picking up high levels of anxiety. Are you injured_?"

"N-no."

" _What's wrong?_ "

"Nothing. N-nothing, I-I just…" I let my hands drop. "I think I should go home."

" _Calculating the fastest route now._ "

The route highlights itself through the schematics laying over the vision through my mask's lenses, a yellow path winding through blue lines and shapes.

I take off, not wanting to be anywhere near here anymore, and follow the path she's laid out for me through the trees and up onto the rooftops outside of the park.

" _You still seem uneasy_."

"I...I shouldn't have done that."

" _Those men would have killed that teenager. You saved his life_."

I land too hard on the edge of a slick roof, my hands shooting out to catch myself before I slide off. "I know. But I...I took it too far. I don't know why I did that."

Maybe it had been the dream that had me feeling so off kilter. Or maybe it had been the combination of my stress, my sleepless nights, of being overwhelmed and exhausted.

Maybe...maybe it had been-

 _No_. I stop that line of thinking in its tracks. There's no way Venom had anything to do with it, other than the fact that it was the cause of my anxiety. I had been in control that whole time. I would know if it was something else controlling my actions.

I would know.

Besides, Dr. Cho had told me that the parasite is still contained.

No, this had been all me, a product of too many emotions, too much pent up aggression and lack of sleep.

I am fine.

I'm fine.

* * *

 **Tony Stark**

I get the call on the quinjet, heading back to the compound with Wilson and Rhodey after our successful take down of Nigel Denison. I'm sitting in the cockpit when F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerts me to the call.

My chair swivels as I turn to face one of the smaller monitor screens to my right.

"Helen," I greet as we are connected. She's in the medical wing's lab, and I immediately notice the crease between her brows, the slightly wide, worried eyes, the tightness in her mouth.

My stomach twists into knots.

"Are you returning to the compound?" Helen asks carefully.

"Yeah, we're a few hours out. What is it? What's wrong?"

I lean forward, and can feel Rhodey's and Wilson's stares burning into the back of my head.

Helen hesitates, her dark eyes already apologizing. "Tony, I'm afraid I have some bad news."

My breath halts in my chest, the words on my tongue shriveling up and dying before I can even try to speak them.

"It's started. Venom...it's spreading."

* * *

 **A/N: Poor Peter. Things aren't looking good for our hero, and he has NO idea what this evil writer has in store for him.**

 **I am on a writing FRENZY. I seriously haven't been able to stop, and this story is all I can think about right now. Your amazing reviews lately have also helped to stoke the fires of my imagination! Seriously, the better they are and the more I get, the more my fingers fly across the keys of my laptop! So faster updates for you all! I can't tell you how much I love writing this little series.**

 **I was talking with my fabulous beta awhile back, and we both agreed that Silent Night is more of a slow burn, while Paint it Black was pretty much nonstop go go go. *In a Hulk voice* smoldering fire, instead of raging fire. So I am so happy to hear you guys are enjoying this journey. We are definitely building up, working our way to the explosive finale, but don't worry, we have a good while to go before the climax of the story. This one is going to be more than double the length of Paint it Black, so I hope you all enjoy the ride!**

 **Major thanks to PippinStrange, whose words of support and mutual fangirling has also kept me on a writer's high this week. If you are in need of another fanfic to read, definitely check out her story, Down Came the Rain, which I fangirl over frequently, and reread when I am struggling with writer's block. SO good people.**

* * *

 **Guest: Thank you so much!**

 **Monkeybaby: :) Hope you enjoyed!**

 **Zye14: Peter has a ways to go with his struggles with Venom before he can get back up again. He's fighting the best he can, but things are going to get way, way worse before they get better.**

 **MewWinx96: So glad you liked the last chapter! I agree, Tony probably wasn't the most thrilled about being stuck with Denison, but Sam and Rhodey definitely deserved some Hydra ass kicking time, lol, and like you said, Tony has gotten his fair share! :)**

 **Sea-urchin-the-ninja: Thank YOU for being awesome and leaving such a wonderful, wonderful review! Your words were very inspiring, and it's one of my favorite things when people say the characters are written in character. Thank you SO much for reviewing! Hope you enjoyed this long chapter!**

 **Gandalf537: ahhhh fangirling over your review! Thank you so much! Seriously, SO nice! Hope you liked this one just as much!**

 **GinaBoo: I am on a roll, with all you wonderful reviewers inspiring me to write so much! Thank you! Tony is hard to write, and I used to be so so so intimidated writing him and the rest of the Avengers. But the more I write, the easier it is becoming, and he's one of my favorite POV's to write from now! Glad to hear it is translating well to you fabulous readers. :)**

 **bunyx: :D Hope you liked it!**

 **StarStepper: So excited to hear how excited you are! lol!**

* * *

 **Coming Up:**

 **Chapter Eight: Carol of the Bells**

 **You know how Scott mentioned he was heading on a mission with Black Widow? You didn't think that I would just blow right past that, did you? ;) Natasha and Scott head undercover to take down a Hydra Senior Officer, and Scott is NOT thrilled with his role in the plan. You just might also get to go along with Peter and Tony as Dr. Cho performs her first experiment in hopes that she will discover just how to remove Venom from Peter's body. Should go smoothly, right?**

 **;)**

 **Please leave me a review below on what you thought of this chapter, and your hopes for the rest of the story! Hopefully my writing frenzy will carry me through writing the rest of this story before my trip at the end of the month!**

 **Much love as always!**

 **Queen**


	8. Carol of the Bells

**Chapter Eight: Carol of the Bells**

 **Natasha Romanov**

"You're late," I say as Scott opens the passenger door of the car and slips in, tossing the black duffel bag onto the seat behind him.

"Sorry. Ran into someone. Literally," he replies as he clicks in the buckle of his seatbelt. He sits back with a sigh, then stares at me in surprise. "Your hair's red again."

"Keen observation, Lang. We definitely picked the right man for this mission."

"You say that sarcastically, but we both know I will be a key asset to whatever the hell it is we're doing. So! Where are we going?"

I put the car in drive and pull out of the huge garage onto the long driveway leading out of the compound. "Not too far, actually. D.C.."

Keeping my left hand on the wheel, I reach back behind me, pull out the tablet containing the mission dossier I'd put together, and hand it to him. He whistles as he unlocks the screen to pull up the file.

"Damn. What kind of money do you have to make to live in this schnazzy joint?"

"The illegal kind, not that there is ever enough evidence to make any kind of accusations," I reply as I turn onto the main road, heading for the freeway.

"Ralph Waller," Scott reads, flipping through the photos and documents with swipes of his finger. "Huh. He kind of looks like my third grade teacher. That guy was a dick. So what's this guy's connection to Hydra?"

"He's one of their senior officials," I pause. "And also a member of the World Security Council."

"What?" Scott exclaims, looking up at me. "Are you serious?"

"I wish I wasn't," my voice is grim, and I give him a brief glance. "This is an extremely high risk mission. Waller is a man who holds a lot of power in a lot of different circles, and could pose a huge threat if he finds out we are aware of his involvement with Hydra."

"So what's the plan?"

"We have to find proof of his connection in order to get him removed from the Council and arrested. Unfortunately, his servers are highly protected, unhackable from a distance."

"We have to get up close and personal then," Scott nods, looking at the blueprints of the large estate.

"Lucky for us, Waller likes his parties, and since it's getting close to the holidays, he's having one at his manor tonight, giving us the opening we need to get in there, get the evidence we need to convict him, and get the hell out."

"Party crashers. I like it," Scott stretches out his arms and cracks his knuckles. "So how are we going to do this? You use your womanly wiles to seduce Waller as a distraction while I do my thing, shrink down, and find out where he's keeping his dirty little secrets?"

A sly smile curves my lips as I keep my gaze on the open road before us.

"Something like that."

* * *

 **Scott Lang**

"For the record, I am entirely against this plan," I say quietly through clenched teeth as I pull at the collar of my overly snug tuxedo.

" _You were the one who suggested it_ ," Natasha reminds me through my earpiece, and I swear I can hear the smug smile in her tone.

"I did not!" I hiss back, moving to a quiet corner of the crowded ballroom. "I said _I_ would be the one sneaking around, and _you_ would be the one playing temptress with the creepy, old Hydra guy. _Not_ the other way around!"

" _Sorry, Lang, but it really isn't my fault that he doesn't swing that way. This one's all you, big boy. Go corner him and seduce him with those beguiling green eyes of yours."_

I scowl darkly. When I heard I'd be going on a top secret, high risk mission with the Black Widow, this was _not_ what I had in mind. Wait-"You really think they are beguiling?"

" _Scott. Focus_."

"Alright, alright," I grumble, adjusting my tie and surveying the room.

Who actually had _ballrooms_ anymore? This one is massive, complete with crystal chandeliers, towering columns of white marble, and filled to the brim with the stuffiest, richest bunch of people I had ever seen. It's mostly a bunch of old guys with their young, gorgeous eye candy looped around their arms as they mill about, laughing at terrible jokes and subtly bragging about how wealthy they've become.

Ugh. Rich people.

No sign of Waller yet, but I do catch sight of a rather attractive waitress holding a tray of champagne. Oh yeah, if I have to get all frisky with some corrupt old dude, I am drinking a shit ton of champagne.

I head for her, sidling through the crowd.

The server wears the same as all the hired help: black trousers and shoes, a white button up shirt, gray vest, and bow tie. Her curly brown hair is twisted up into a knot, freckles dot across her nose and cheeks, and she looks up at me with big, sapphire blue eyes.

Hot damn.

I take a glass. "Thanks," I say, lifting it slightly. "I'm gonna need a few of these. It's going to be a long night."

She just gives me a small smile, which I happily return.

"You uh- come to these things often? To work, I mean. Obviously, since you know, the tray, and the..outfit, er-uniform," I gesture towards her.

The waitress steps closer, fluttering her eyelashes up at me as she replies, "Flattering as this is, I'm not your target, Lang. Sounds like you needed the warm up though. Your flirting is a little rusty. Also, lay off the champagne."

She plucks the champagne flute from my hand and sets it back on her tray.

I stare, my eyes wide, my mouth hanging open in shock. "Wait, _Natasha_? Y-you-what- _-how_?"

"Get a move on, Scott. We don't have all night. Waller's in the lounge," she jerks her head towards the archway leading to a smaller room on the other side of the ballroom. With a final smirk, she says,"Happy hunting."

How the hell does she _do_ that? Anyone who says that the Hulk is the most frightening of the Avengers clearly never met the Black Widow. With a long, internal groan, I head for the lounge, my dread increasing with every step.

God this sucks.

This definitely isn't what I signed up for when I decided to become an Avenger.

I nearly walk straight into another server with a tray of hors d'oeuvres, _ooh crab cakes,_ and have to duck slightly to avoid toppling it over. I snatch one as I continue my trek, my eyes already scanning the couches, settees, and armchairs filling the dark, elegant lounge as I stuff the crab cake into my mouth.

The seating is all filled with people drinking, laughing, smoking. I finally spot Waller, relaxing on an overcrowded leather couch, a drink in his hand, and about four women all throwing themselves shamelessly at him. A stunning blonde leans forward and whispers in his ear, and he lets out a loud laugh, trailing his free hand across her thigh.

I press a finger to my earpiece. "He's surrounded by girls. And looking quite happy about it. I thought you said this guy was gay?"

" _A man in his position has to play a certain role. No one knows about his...preferences."_

"How do _you_ know?"

" _You really want to get into that right now? Get in there. And be subtle about it. Waller won't appreciate it if you out him in front of D.C.'s elite."_

"Subtle is my middle name," I reply smoothly, rolling my shoulders a bit.

" _I thought it was Edward_."

"Seriously, how do you _know_ that?!" I hiss incredulously.

" _Lang. The target. Now_."

Letting out a disgruntled sigh, I begin to move through the room, wondering howl I am supposed to do this. The guy I am supposed to get to is not only in the far corner of the lounge, through a maze of couches and wasted big shots, but he's also drowning in beautiful women, and two massive, stone-faced security guards are lingering nearby.

How the hell am I going to get past all these people to seduce this old guy, currently being fawned over by supermodels, without being obvious that I am coming on to him and accidentally outing him and ruining the entire plan?

Jesus, there's a thought I never thought I'd have.

I let out a long, disgruntled sigh, pausing to examine one of the massive paintings lining the dark green wallpaper. The painting is taller than I am, and I can't hide my grimace as I look it up and down.

Holy crap, I think it's supposed to be a portrait of Ralph Waller. Either the artist hated his guts, or the guy has absolutely horrible taste. Woof. Cassie can paint better than that, and she's a freaking kid.

"Terrible, isn't it?" comes a voice from my right.

I can't even tear my eyes away from the painting, it is that bad. "It's definitely the worst painting I have ever seen," I admit easily, pointing up at it. "They made the poor guy look like a pig wearing a doily."

I grin, turning to the man standing next to me. My stomach drops, the grin falling from my face just as swiftly as I stare at Ralph Waller in absolute horror.

"Oh god. I didn't-I mean," I stammer with complete mortification.

Waller smiles, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "It's alright. I appreciate the honesty. It's refreshing, and the painting really is atrocious. I'm afraid I was completely swindled."

My shoulders relax slightly in relief. Ok. Ok, I can do this. This is my chance, flirt with Waller, distract him, and keep his attention on me while Natasha sneaks upstairs. It'll be easy. The worst thing I've had to do in my entire life, but easy.

"It, uh, really doesn't do you justice, sir," I say, trying to give him what I am hoping is a debonair smile. "You definitely don't look like a pig in a doily."

Oh my god. I am such an idiot.

But Waller is still smiling. "Thank god for that. I didn't catch your name, Mr. -?"

He's still touching my shoulder. I suppress a shudder, and say as suavely as I can manage, "It's Charles. Charles Carmichael. I already know your name, Mr. Waller."

I hold out my hand, and he takes it, holding it a bit too long for my comfort.

"Please," the old man replies easily. "My friends call me Ralph. What do you do for a living, Charles?"

"I'm an antiquities dealer," I answer, mentally thanking Natasha for prepping a detailed cover for me. I'm good at thinking on the fly, but being prepared never hurt. "I work mostly in Los Angeles, but there's an auction here in D.C.. I'm hoping to find some unique pieces for my buyers."

"Ah, so you have an eye for real art, then. I have a very extensive collection myself upstairs. I promise they are far superior than this one. I wonder, Charles, if you'd like a tour?" Waller asks, his eyes glinting.

Nausea cinches at my gut, but I give him my best smile. "I'd be honored."

"The honor, Mr. Carmichael, is all mine."

* * *

 **Natasha Romanov**

I shake my head as Waller pats Lang hard on his shoulder, leading him to the foyer of his manor where the large curving staircase will take them to his gallery upstairs. A pair of bodyguards fall into step behind them, keeping close by. I can work with this. The gallery is on the opposite end of the manor to the master bedroom I will be breaking into. As long as Waller keeps his attention on Lang, I should be able to slip in and out unnoticed. Lang looks pleased with himself for his success. He also looks like he might vomit.

He has no idea that Waller had been the seducer, and he the seducee.

Regardless, the distraction is working, and it's time for me to move.

Taking my now empty tray, I head back for the kitchens. The volume of the party has grown significantly, the music and the increasingly loud drunken voices echoing off the vaulted ceilings.

Perfect.

I slip through the crowd, pushing through the swinging double doors of the kitchen, where, if possible, it's even louder. Cooks work in a frenzy, their pots and pans banging and sizzling on industrial grade stoves and ovens as they yell frantic orders to each other. Servers crowd around, trying to refill their trays and get back out to the hungry, drunken masses.

It's utter chaos.

So no one really notices when I set my empty tray on the counter and move past them to the back of the kitchen. I step into the walk in pantry around the corner, shutting the door softly behind me and barricading it with the step ladder used to reach the upper shelves.

I lift the photostatic veil from my face, my skin tingling as the disguise dissipates, revealing my own features and shoulder length red hair. Quickly, I remove the server's attire that I'm wearing over my black stealth uniform, shoving it all in a ball beneath the bottom shelf.

I nimbly leap up, kicking off one of the lower shelves to give myself more height, and cling to the uppermost shelf as I pry off the grating of the a.c. vent in the ceiling. I place a small disk inside before replacing the grating and dropping to the floor.

It never hurts to have a back up plan.

I open the pantry door just a crack, and a brief glance proves that everyone is still too distraught and busy to notice me as I slip out and sneak out the back door of the kitchen to the outside of the manor.

The night air is frigid, the grounds of the estate covered with snow, moonlight highlighting the silhouettes of the towering pine trees in the distance.

I've already hacked into the silent alarms and security cameras, setting them on an indiscernible loop, so all I have to watch out for now are the men patrolling the property and building.

Speaking of which…

One is coming this way, rounding the corner, his beefy muscles barely contained by the expensive suit he's wearing. I leap up, my fingers latching on the ledge of the second level balcony, pulling myself straight up and ducking low behind one of the many columns lining the manor. He passes below, entirely unaware of my presence.

I step up onto the balcony railing, walking across it for a few feet before scaling up the nearest column up onto the third level. Rolling when I hit the wide terrace, I duck below a set of windows just before a guard walks past them on the inside of the house.

Keeping low, I count the windows, pausing at the fourth one down, and peering cautiously into the room's dark depths to make sure the coast is clear before picking the lock on the window and slipping inside.

I've memorized the entire layout of the manor, and know that any evidence Waller might have, he would keep close for safekeeping. I straighten inside the parlor connected to the master bedroom, my eyes quickly scanning the shadowed room for possible weapons and escape routes, should I need it.

Here's where the plan gets tricky.

Lang has to keep Waller occupied without resorting to moving things into his bedroom. Luckily for me, Scott has _plenty_ of motivation to keep the old man too busy in the gallery.

I stride quickly for the bedroom, my eyes roaming across the extravagant king sized bed, the elaborate dressers, armchairs, and end tables. Two doors rest on either side of the large bed, one leading to the bathroom, the other to the walk in closet. My eyes consider every surface, my mind racing through all the possibilities and eliminating them one by one. There are many places one could hide their deepest, darkest secrets. Especially when they are this wealthy.

The large, snow white fur rug resting beneath the bed, stretching across the slick, polished wood floor is what draws my gaze.

Just how close would he want to keep his secrets?

If I was Waller, I'd want them as near as possible, close enough to touch.

I scan the bed, my hand brushing over the mattress, discerning the slight dip on the left side where Waller must always sleep. So I drop into a crouch near the edge of the rug on that side, lifting it up and rolling the ends of it back towards the bed.

Running my hand across the wooden planks beneath it, I note how smooth the wood is, how almost unnoticeable the breaks between them are. There's no hidden edge, no crease or line where a hidden hatch might be.

I raise my forearm, pressing several icons on the wrist computer Stark had installed for me before I left, and blue light begins to flare from it, spreading from the small spot on my wrist to a wide beam that scans across the floor.

Scott's voice sounds off in my earpiece. " _Natasha, where the hell are you?_ "

"A little busy at the moment," I murmur back, a satisfied smile curving my lips as the scan shows the small safe buried beneath the wood, and the wires connecting it to the side table nearby.

I move to it, my fingers brushing against the elaborately carved trim on the edge of the small table, finding a small knot. I press down.

" _Please tell me you're almost done._ "

There's a near silent hiss of noise as two of the wooden planks on the floor slide away to reveal the narrow lead safe.

"Please tell me you aren't communicating with me in front of Waller," I reply as I examine the safe, looking for any alarms or tripwires I need to disable first.

" _What? No, no of course not. I'm hiding in the bathroom_."

There it is. A faint thread of light shooting across the keypad, ready to sound an alarm the moment someone reaches for it.

"Scott, I need you to be distracting Waller, not hiding from him. Get your ass out there," I pull a tiny magnetic disk from my belt, carefully easing it into the crack between the safe and the wooden hatch it rests in, and placing it over the transmitter emitting the tiny beam of light.

There's a spark as it short circuits, and then I am free to hack my way into the safe.

" _I'm starting to get uncomfortable here. There's...groping_."

I smirk as I lift the panel on the keypad to reveal a series of colored wires connecting it down into the safe.

" _I can hear you smirking. Quit it. Get me the hell out of here_."

"Keep your panties on, Lang. I'm almost done."

Rewiring the keypad, I press it back into the safe. There's a soft, muffled click, and then it's open.

" _I'm trying! Professor Von Gropey over here is making it a little hard_."

I hear a distant knock through the earpiece, and a quiet voice asks, " _Mr. Carmichael? Are you alright?_ "

" _Crap. I gotta go. For the love of god, hurry up, woman!_ "

Opening the safe, I gaze down at the stacks of cash, fake passports and identifications, and envelopes. Digging past it all, my fingers brush against the velvet lining, finding an unnatural seam, and seizing the small disk resting within it.

"Got you," I gaze at it before slipping it into one of the pouches adorning my belt. I move swiftly, closing the safe, removing the magnetic disk from the alarm's transmitter, and pressing the button on the side table to close the wooden hatch before kicking the rug back in place over it.

The door to the parlor opens.

I quickly press my back against the wall next to the door connecting it to the bedroom.

"Where should I put it?" a female voice asks.

A deep growling one answers her. "Here on the coffee table is fine. Hurry up."

There's a clink of metal and glass as she places whatever it is, a tray most likely, onto the coffee table. Her shoes click on the wooden floor as she exits, and I wait to hear the man's footsteps follow and the door shut.

But he doesn't leave.

Instead, I hear a rustling of fabric, the muffled thuds of his shoes hitting the floor, drawing nearer instead of away.

 _Click_.

He has his gun drawn, the open bedroom door likely causing his suspicion.

I wait, completely silent and still, until I see the barrel of the gun ease past the doorway.

Seizing it with my left hand, I twist it sharply, the guard's fingers catching in the trigger and breaking instantly. He starts to let out a cry of pain, but my right hand is already jabbing for his throat, cutting off the sound and turning it into a choking wheeze. The gun falls from his hands, about to clatter loudly on the wooden floor, but I catch it just in time, flipping it in my hand and slamming the handle into the man's temple.

The guard drops, and I catch him by the lapels of his jacket, clenching my teeth at his weight as I slowly ease him onto the floor.

I glance up at the empty parlor, waiting for a sign that other guards had heard, but there are none. My eyes catch on the silver tray on the coffee table, laden with strawberries and a bottle of expensive champagne on ice, two glasses resting beside it.

I smirk. Waller might be a corrupt bastard, but it seems he knows how to take care of his dates. I doubt Lang will appreciate the gesture.

A blinking red light has my gaze snapping back to the unconscious guard. It's coming from his watch.

Shit. He set off an alarm before entering the bedroom. Time to get Scott and get the hell out of here.

Two guards burst into the parlor, their guns drawn and aimed straight at me.

My hand moves to my wrist, activating the smoke bombs I'd placed in the kitchens and ballroom, setting off an alarm that will have all the guests trying to flee the manor in a panic.

The guards pull their triggers at my movement, and the parlor explodes with gunfire.

* * *

 **Scott Lang**

That's it.

As soon as we get back to the compound, I am quitting.

If I'd known _this_ is what I would have to be doing as an Avenger, I never would have even considered saying yes when Clint approached me months ago. This is worse than sitting in that freaking cell for five months, worse than any job I had taken on before becoming Ant-man.

Although to be fair, I realize with a frown, I'm sure Natasha has had to do something like this many times throughout her career as both KGB agent and spy for S.H.I.E.L.D.. I should just suck it up and deal with it. I should be a bigger person and give the woman a break. I should-

The old man's hand is on my lower back as we examine a small landscape painting, and I am forced once again to come up with random bullshit that will pass as artistic jargon. I have to look away for a brief moment, my face scrunching up as his hand starts to move lower.

Nope. I'm going to kill Natasha.

This is the most humiliating experience of my life.

A guard enters the room. "Mr. Waller, sir?"

Waller scowls, reluctantly moving his hand off of me and turning to the guard. My shoulders slump with relief as Waller snaps, "What is it?"

The guard moves towards him, leaning in close and whispering in his ear. Uh-oh. That can't be good.

"I see," Waller replies as the man straightens. "That's unfortunate."

Definitely not good.

Waller turns to face me, and all three guards in the room aim their guns at my chest.

"Whoa," I raise up my hands, my eyes wide. "What's going on? I didn't mean what I said about the flowers in the landscape painting. They're really, very pretty."

"You can drop the act," Waller glowers. "It seems the infamous Black Widow has broken into my manor, Mr. Carmichael. Or should I say, Scott Lang, as my men have just finished running facial recognition on you?"

Well, shit.

I don't even have my suit on me, due to Natasha's insistence that should any clothes be removed, it would be a dead giveaway, even though I'd argued that not a _single_ item of clothing would be coming off tonight.

The guard whispers something else to him, and Waller replies sharply, "Lock down the estate, then. No one leaves," He turns back to me. "It seems this night will end quite differently than I imagined."

"Well, thank god for that. No offense, Ralphy, but you're really not my type," I smirk at him.

Waller's teeth are clenched as he growls, "Kill him."

I lunge to my right, seizing one of the bodyguards and yanking him in front of me before the rest of them can shoot. Wrapping my hand around his, I force him to shoot both of his fellow guards in their legs. Both go down with cries of pain, dropping their guns and clutching their wounded limbs.

Shifting my grip on the guard I am holding, I grab him by the neck and slam his head into the nearby wall. He drops to the ground.

Waller stares at me in horror, and I open my arms wide.

"What's the matter? I thought you wanted this night to end with just you and me."

Eight guards burst into the room, weapons raised as they move into formation around the old man.

Goddamn it.

Waller smirks. "Goodbye, Mr. Lang."

Hands raised, I back up until my feet hit the wall, my back pressed against the icy window pane.

Well, Scott, looks like your first mission back you get to be groped by a creepy old man and then shot to death. Awesome.

I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself for the onslaught of bullets, cursing Natasha for not letting me wear my suit, when suddenly a breeze ruffles my hair, and a hand grabs me by my collar, yanking me backwards.

The air explodes with sound as bullets rip through the air, slamming into the walls, the railing of the balcony. I land on the terrace hard, rolling onto my stomach with my hands protectively over my head.

"Come on!" Natasha shouts, and I get to my feet, ducking low and running as fast as I can across the wide terrace, the assassin right at my side.

Reaching the end, we both propel ourselves over the railing, leaping into the air. My arms pinwheel as we plummet, the sound of racing footsteps and yells just behind us. We land in a huge snowbank, the mound cushioning our fall.

"Cut that a little close, wouldn't you say?" I gripe as we push to our feet and start running through the snow.

"After them!" Waller shouts from far behind.

Bullets pelt the snow behind us as we run around the manor and into the front gardens. I hear shouts and screams behind, and glance at the front of the manor to the mass of people, all panicking and scrambling to leave the manor, a group of hired help and security guards trying to corral them back inside.

"You're welcome," Natasha shoots back.

Two huge hedges rise up on either side of us, the snow already cleared on the cobblestone path beneath our feet. A fountain looms ahead, more snow covered hedges just beyond it.

"Next time," I pant. "You can be the temptress, and I break in and sneak around. With my suit. You know, since I'm the professional thief here?! God, I feel so _violated_."

A pair of guards emerge on either side of the massive fountain.

Natasha and I move in tandem, lunging for them. I shove the guard's arm up, pushing his gun away as I slam my knee into his chest, knocking him back. Two hard punches to his face, and the man is out, collapsing to the cobblestones.

"You took one for the team, Don Juan. Get used to it," Natasha finally replies to me as she finishes with her guard. We both take off running past the fountain and through another set of hedges.

"You know what-"

The bushes rustle just ahead, and instinctively, I dive to the left, tackling Natasha through the hedge and into the snow just as gunfire rains down on the spot where we had just been.

I hover over her body, smirking down at her. "Saved your li-"

She wraps her legs around my waist, flipping us so my back hits the snow, and she straddles me, her guns already raised as she fires off three shots.

I tilt my head back, watching as a trio of heavily armed men fall to the ground.

"You were saying?" Natasha says, one eyebrow raised.

I scowl at her. "Fine. We're even. Get off me."

She rolls off, easily getting to her feet and holstering her guns as she helps me up. We are near the property line now, and light glints off the multitude of vehicles lining the driveway. I risk a glance behind as we run, cursing loudly at the amount of men converging on us.

When I look back, I catch sight of a gleaming, sleek black motorcycle. "Yes!" I let out a fist pump. "We are so taking that! Who the hell rode a motorcycle to this party?"

Natasha is faster, and beats me to it, sliding on and moving her hands to the bundle of wires near the handlebars, splitting them and trying to start the engine. I reach her, reluctantly sliding behind, glancing back again.

"Come on, come on," my eyes widen at the guards racing after us, guns raised and starting to fire. "Now! Now would be good!"

"Patience is a virtue," Natasha says through clenched teeth.

"Not right now it isn't!" I turn back as the engine roars to life, wrapping my arms around Natasha's waist and clinging to her just in time as the bike takes off at near top speed.

We fly down the winding road, pine trees looming around us and snow blanketing the slopes on either side. Icy wind whips across my face, Natasha's red hair snapping against my cheek.

I hear a roar behind us, and look over my shoulder to see a horde of vehicles speeding after us, their headlights blinding in the darkness.

"We got company!" I shout over the noise.

Gunfire begins blasting towards us as the guards hang out of the car windows, and we both lean low on the bike, Natasha swerving it in a serpentine motion.

"Shit! Give me your guns!"

Instead, the assassin lets go of the handlebars, forcing me to lunge forward and seize them as she deftly twists in her seat, her legs once again around my waist. Natasha raises her arms firing her two guns over my shoulders.

"Really? Was this necessary? How hard would it have been to just hand me your weapons?" I gripe.

"I'm a better shot."

I struggle to drive the motorcycle leaning over her body, unable to turn and see how effective her shooting is, but the resulting crashes and explosions I hear are a pretty good sign.

My eyes are streaming with the cold wind battering against them as we fly across the slick road at an insane speed. We swerve around a corner of the windy road, and my eyes widen at the blockade of vehicles, armed men posed behind the open doors of the SUV's, waiting for us.

"Shit!"

Letting go of the handlebars, I seize Natasha and dive off of the motorcycle, taking her with me. We hit the snow hard, rolling down the icy slope. I release my grip on her, yanking one of the guns from her hand and flipping on my side to aim at the motorcycle, now on its side and skidding towards the blockade. I fire, the bullet slamming into the gas chamber.

There's a huge explosion as the bike rams into one of the vehicles, setting off a deafening, fiery chain reaction so big, heat sears my face and shoulders.

I lay there on my stomach, the front of me entirely soaked and freezing, trying to get a breath in as I let out a wild laugh of relief. "Wooh! How was...that...for a better...shot?"

I look over at Natasha, looking disheveled but otherwise unharmed. She gives me a small smile, pushing herself to her feet. "Not bad, Lang."

I sit up, twisting the gun in my hand, a confident smirk on my face. "Call me Carmichael. Charles Carmichael."

* * *

 **Peter Parker**

"Hey," Mr. Stark's voice is stern, forcing me to drag my eyes up from the floor to meet his. "Don't be nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

Leveling a look at me, he reaches down and flicks at my hand, which had been rubbing at my chest. At the same time, he lightly kicks the foot of my right leg, which is bouncing at a rapid pace. I still, letting my hand drop and my leg relax.

"Kid, if you were any more twitchy, I would think you were schizophrenic."

I think about the nightmares I've been having, the increasing cold, starting to see and hear things in the middle of the day that aren't there...he might not be that far off.

"Sorry," I say from where I sit on the medical exam table.

"You don't have to keep apologizing. Just relax," Mr. Stark leans against one of the counters, his arms folded across his chest, a picture of ease, like he's showing me how the pros do it. "We're just going to try something, and if it doesn't work, no biggie. We try something else another day. It'll be fine, K?"

I let out a long breath. "Ok."

Dr. Cho enters the exam room, two assistants following her with a metal cart that makes my stomach seize with nerves. My eyes scan it frantically, unfamiliar with the equipment, as one of the assistants begins to set up.

"Kid, did I ever tell you about the time I wielded Mjolnir?" Mr. Stark asks. My head swivels towards him, my brows creasing together. "You know, Mjolnir? Hammer of the gods? The one that belongs to the mighty Thor?"

"I know what it is," I look at him skeptically. "You couldn't- I mean, I thought only Thor could pick it up."

"Whoever is worthy of ruling Asgard can wield the hammer," Mr. Stark corrects, opening his arms with a smug look on his face. "You're looking at their future king. Don't worry, I won't forget about you when I'm master of the universe."

I am torn, wanting to laugh but not wanting to insult him, because he looks like he's trying to be serious. My doubt must show on my face, because he says, "What? You don't think I'm worthy?"

"No. I mean, no, it's not that-I just never heard of anyone else picking up the hammer before," thinking inwardly that while I idolize Mr. Stark more than anyone, it's hard to imagine him...like that. _Ruling_. I picture a giant statue of him in the middle of some otherworldly palace and stifle a snigger.

One of the assistants moves closer to me. I stiffen as he begins placing circular patches on my temples, on my chest beneath my shirt.

"Monitors," he tells me as he steps back. "They'll transmit information about your body; your pulse, your brainwaves, to that machine over there."

I swallow thickly, my eyes following his pointing arm to the slim, white machine in the corner, laden with screens.

"Geez kid, dagger to the heart. I can't believe after all we've been through, you don't believe me. You can forget about being my lackey when I am king. That honor will go back to Rhodey."

I glance back over at Mr. Stark. My brows narrow at him as I finally ask. "Did you _really_ pick up Thor's hammer, or are you saying all this to distract me?"

Mr. Stark winks at me. "Guess you'll never know...Is it working?"

I let out a short laugh.

"Alright, we're all set up. You ready to try this, Peter?" Dr. Cho asks.

"Well," I look back at Mr. Stark. "It _was_ working. What exactly are we trying?"

Dr. Cho adjusts what looks like a tall...lamp? What the hell?

"Venom is lowering your body temperature significantly," Dr. Cho replies. "It seems to thrive in colder temperatures, perhaps used to cold blooded hosts, if it has been bonded in the past. Have you noticed any discomfort when you try to get warm? Like when you shower?"

I frown, shaking my head. "No."

Dr. Cho and Mr. Stark exchange a glance. "Ok," she says. "We are just going to try some heat today, to see if we can raise your body temperature a bit, get you warmed up."

"See kid? Easy. Nothing to be nervous about," Mr. Stark claps a hand on my shoulder.

"Ok," I reply with a long sigh. Getting warm didn't sound so bad.

One of the assistants moves to place a heavy blanket around my shoulder, and my eyes widen slightly. "Woah! That's _so_ warm."

The outside of the blanket looks like metallic and shiny, and the inside is slightly scratchy, not soft in the slightest. But it is toasty warm, warmer than when laundry first comes out of the dryer, warmer than if it had been laying out in the sun all day, absorbing its heat.

I feel my muscles relax beneath it as I savor the warmth around my arms, wishing it had a similar effect on my freezing torso.

"This is a heating lamp," Dr. Cho flips it on, moving it closer to me, and the long, narrow bulb inside of its rectangular capsule begins glowing red, a faint metallic hum accompanying its light. "We're going to slowly increase the temperature while we monitor your body's reactions."

There's a flash of white light, and I blink for a moment before I register that Mr. Stark has just taken a picture with his cell phone.

"Hey!" I say, mildly outraged.

"Sorry kid. Had to document this. Is there any way we can get him one of those aluminum foil caps to complete the ensemble?" he gestures towards my head as he smirks back at me.

I roll my eyes, trying not to smile as I pull the blanket closer around me. I appreciate what he's doing: distracting me and making light of an otherwise uncomfortable situation.

"You're doing great, Peter," Dr. Cho reassures as she moves back towards the monitors. "And don't worry, Tony has had much worse incriminating photos taken of him."

"Hey," Mr. Stark turns to her. I can feel the heat increasing, the red bulb growing brighter with every few seconds. "Who's side are you on?"

"My patient's," Dr. Cho replies with a small smile.

My arms and face feel flushed they are so warm, like that feeling when you first open a hot oven, and the heat just washes over you. I can feel beads of sweat starting to slide down my neck.

Dr. Cho and Mr. Stark continue to banter as I watch with amusement, shifting slightly as my body starts to become more uncomfortable. Half of me is hot now, overheated, and the other half is glacial, the two forces warring against each other and creating the most bizarre sensations.

I can still feel the heat from the lamp growing, the blanket warming even further from its light.

My pulse begins to quicken.

The teasing banter halts as the monitor informs them of my increasing heart rate. They both look back at me.

"You doing ok, Peter?" Dr. Cho asks. "Feeling some discomfort?"

"A little," I admit, trying not to squirm too much. "I'm ok."

"I'm going to escalate the temperature of the heating lamp," she informs me. "Tell me when it starts to get too unbearable."

Sweat rolls down my temple, down the side of my cheek. I can't calm my pulse, and as the heat swells significantly, my breathing begins to shallow, to quicken in time with my heart beat. My stomach lurches with nausea.

"I don't-I don't feel so good."

"Just a little longer, Peter. Can you do that for me?"

I nod shakily, feeling suddenly lightheaded. My insides are tensing, constricting, making it hard to breathe, to think. I shudder as the knot of ice near my heart begins to tremor and writhe, pulsing painfully in my chest.

"Turn it off," I hear Mr. Stark order.

"Dr. Cho, his pulse is too high."

"Just give him a minute."

"I said, turn it _off_."

It's too hot. It's too hot. It's too hot.

I can't take it anymore, can't stand the awful, terrible heat. With shaking hands, I push the blanket off my shoulders, my chest heaving as icy pain pulses and stabs through my veins. I claw at the monitor patches on my face, my chest, unable to bear the contact on my heated skin.

Too hot. Too hot. Too hot.

"Turn it off!" Mr. Stark demands, moving for the lamp. Dr. Cho steps in front of him.

"Wait, it's affecting the parasite! We need to-"

I'm trembling violently, unable to catch my breath as waves of ice shoot through me, eradicating the heat beneath my skin. I cry out, my hands gripping the table beneath me, crushing and curling the metal surface.

 _Too hot-too hot-too hot-_

We can't take it anymore.

My fist flies forward of its own accord, slamming into the upper part of the lamp as hard as I can. Glass shatters as the light bulb explodes beneath the blow, and the lamp goes soaring across the room. One of the assistants screams.

I'm on my feet, staggering and stumbling out of the room as quickly as I can manage, dizzy, light headed, unable to see straight. The hall is significantly cooler, and I sink to my knees, my hands reaching up to the wall in front of me to steady myself before I topple over. My heart is pounding so painfully against my chest, my ribs ache with the force of it.

A hand settles on my back, and I flinch away.

"Easy, kid. Easy. Take a breath. _Breathe_ ," Mr. Stark orders, his hand, his voice an anchor keeping me from falling into the dark.

Footsteps fill the hall.

"Peter!"

"Give him a minute," Mr. Stark snaps, his voice tense and furious.

I struggle to slow my ragged breathing, my eyes falling shut as my dual heartbeats begin to gradually ease back to their normal pace. The cold settles on me like a comforting blanket of snow, making me sigh with relief.

Better. That's better. The cold is better.

"I'm so sorry, Peter," Dr. Cho speaks from behind me. "Tony, please. He's my patient. Let me take care of him."

"Like you just _took care of him_ in there?" the hand lifts from my back as Mr. Stark stands, turning to face her, his voice tight with anger. "I told you to shut it off. Why didn't you stop?"

"Because it was working, Tony," she replies. "Yes, my job is to take care of Peter's well-being, but his _well-being_ depends on me getting that parasite out of him. It was reacting defensively to the heat. It could be our way of removing it."

"It was hurting him. Killing him. I asked you to find a safe way to get it out, not to _torture_ him in the process. You're done. He's done for today."

My forehead rests on the cool wall, and I feel like I can finally breathe, and with my breath comes exhaustion so intense, I nearly fall over.

"Tony-"

"He's _done_ ," Mr. Stark snaps. "Next time I tell you that enough is enough, you listen. Or I'll find someone else."

"Come on, kid," an arm wraps around my chest, carefully helping me to my feet. I let Mr. Stark help me stand, leaning on him more than I would like to.

"I'm ok," I breathe out as we head down the hall at a carefully slow pace. My body hurts. It aches like it's been battling a fever for days, but my body is blessedly cold instead of overly hot.

"I know you are," Mr. Stark replies. "I'm sorry I let that go on too long."

"'S ok," I reply, my eyelids growing heavy as we move into the elevator.

"It's not," he sighs heavily. "It's not. Let's get you into bed, okay kiddo?"

I nod wearily, too tired to talk anymore.

I can't tell if I black out or sleep walk the rest of the way, but before I know it, I am easing into the bed of the room they have for me here in the compound.

"You need anything, you just tell F.R.I.D.A.Y., ok? I'll be nearby," Mr. Stark says, standing awkwardly beside my bed.

"Mmhmm," I murmur in agreement as I let my eyes fall shut. He lets out a heavy breath, and after a long moment, I hear him leave the room.

My eyes crack open, my body slowly sitting up all on its own. It feels like I've already fallen asleep, but I am reaching for the window above the bed, unclicking the latches and sliding it up. An icy breeze hits my face, and I breathe it in.

Much better.

I lay back down, finally able to relax as the icy cold washes over me.

* * *

 **A/N: Things aren't looking too good, are they? :/ Things are definitely going to keep escalating from here on out!**

 **You guys! 100 reviews! My heart is so full! Thank you SO much! Thanks to you review regulars and to the new reviewers you've joined the team! You guys rock. Seriously, I love reading through them! You guys are making my ego as big as Tony Stark's! XD I'm trying to keep with the trend of quick updates and as a special thank you, I've given you the longest chapter so far! I hope you all enjoyed it. I really enjoyed writing this one.**

 **The first half of this chapter was definitely a tribute to one of my all time favorite TV shows, Chuck. Anyone catch the reference I put in there? ;)**

 **PippinStrange is your incredible beta, so many, many thanks to her putting up with my questions, my nagging, and my insane amount of writing I've been throwing at her this week. lol! She's written an amazing story, Down Came the Rain, so if you need something to read in between updates, make sure you head to her profile and check it out. Her Peter Parker and Tony Stark are SO good.**

* * *

 **whimiscalbubbles: Thank you so much! That's an amazing compliment! Glad you are enjoying!**

 **Modern Demigod Hero: I'm so glad! :)**

 **GinaBoo: They really, really are! Thank you very much! That makes me ridiculously happy that you can experience it along with Peter! That's definitely my goal!**

 **Detective Rysposito: I live for Peter whump too! Poor kid! lol! I'm glad you are enjoying the updates and the pace of the story!**

 **DarylDixon'sLover: Yeah mistakes were definitely made, and more mistakes will be made before the end.**

 **StarStepper: Lol! Don't die! XD I'm so happy to hear how happy you are!**

 **monkeybaby: Yay!**

 **Dimensional Phaser: Yeah. :/**

 **Sea-urchin-the-ninja: SO SO happy to hear from you! And that my chapter elicited a second review! Thank you very much, it is beyond appreciated. I love giving you guys a little tease for the next chapter, so I am glad you enjoy that as well!**

 **MewWinx96: I know! I am so torn between wanting to just make everything ok for Peter, and then, because I am a sadistic writer, put him through absolute hell. lol! He has a ways to go before things start looking up for him. And yeah, Scott was definitely worried for nothing about that part. ;)**

 **Guest: Eeeeh! I LIVE for all of you guys's reviews! I get so excited to hear how excited you are!**

 **DiamondGirl140: Thanks! I don't have anything planned for MJ's POV, but I am thinking about doing a bonus chapter at the very end with deleted scenes or scenes that didn't fit, so maybe I can write one for that! ;)**

 **TeamCaptain2016: Two reviews in a row! I love it! XD Thank you for taking the time to do that. I love quick updates as well.**

 **HazelSparks2778: I know, poor Peter! He goes through so much! Things definitely didn't go as expected.**

 **BlueHeart007: THank you very, very much! Thanks for reviewing! I'm so glad you like the style and all the character's tone and voices!**

 **Gandalf537: You are SO sweet! I haven't had to work much this past week, so it's allowed for a lot of writing to get done! I'm definitely taking care of myself and giving my wrists a break every now and then. thank you!**

 **Evelris: OMG! Your review made me SO happy! You are seriously way too kind! I love hearing that you couldn't stop reading it, and all your favorite elements! I can't stop writing it! lol**

* * *

 **Coming up:**

 **Chapter Nine: Let it Snow**

 **Peter Parker is being consumed by Venom. There's no doubt about it now. And Dr. Cho's experiment might have made things even worse. Peter's hallucinations begin to spiral out of control, and he makes a shocking discovery.**

 **Also, Tony gets a surprising phone call, and some much needed advice.**

* * *

 **Blown away by the amount of super kind reviews, people! BLOWN AWAY! I will shamelessly ask you to leave some more down below, and I may even gift you with another quick update! ;D**


	9. Let it Snow

**Chapter Nine: Let it Snow**

 **Peter Parker**

 _"Come out little spider, and I promise I won't hurt you."_

 _"You will succeed where many others have failed."_

 _"We have made the greatest weapon this world has ever known."_

My eyes snap open, my chest too tight and heaving. I find myself pressed in the corner of my bedroom at home, my palms and the soles of my feet sticking to the walls on either side of me. Sweat drenches my back, making my t-shirt cling to my shivering body.

I drop to the carpeted floor with a heavy thud as my stomach constricts.

Racing across my bedroom, nearly tripping over my discarded backpack, I yank my door open and rush for the bathroom, barely making it in time to lean over the toilet as my stomach lurches violently, and I begin heaving.

There's almost nothing for me to throw up. My appetite had almost completely vanished two days ago when Dr. Cho's failed experiment wreaked havoc on my body. I'd picked at my food ever since, eating just enough to avoid comment or suspicion from my friends or May, but mostly pushing things around on my plate.

My eyes are watering as I cling to the chilled porcelain, wiping my mouth as I finish and blindly reach up to flush the toilet.

God, I'm so _sick_ of nightmares. So sick of waking up in a panic, unsure of where I am, if I'm in a cell or strapped to a table or safe at home. I can only hope that when Dr. Cho gets this parasite out of me it'll all stop.

 _If_ she can get it out of me.

I grip the edge of the toilet and push myself up, staggering to the sink to wash my hands and splash water on my face. Looking up at my reflection, I cringe at the dark circles beneath my eyes, the pale, sickly tone of my skin.

I look like a wreck.

 _Crack_.

I watch my eyes widen further in my reflection, the tendons in my neck standing out as every muscle tenses. I freeze, my ears straining to hear the source of that crack. The hair on the back of my neck stands straight up, and the breath halts in my lungs in the same moment.

 _Crack, crack._

My gaze flicks to the reflection of the open doorway behind me, to the shadowed hall beyond it. There's no sign of movement. There's no one there.

 _Crack_.

What the hell _is_ that?

It sounds like…

It sounds like ice. The squeaking, strained crackling of water slowly freezing to ice, or frost spreading across the glass of a window pane. The noise creeps from the back of the nearly black hall, the echoes amplifying as it nears, louder, and louder—

A shadow darts across the doorway.

I whirl, the edge of the porcelain sink digging harshly into my lower back. My breath comes in tense, shallow pants as my eyes search the darkness, my heart thundering painfully against my ribs.

"W-who's there?" I call shakily. God, I sound just like the idiot teenager in the horror movie, calling out as if expecting the intruder to answer back. I give my head a little shake, trying to clear my senses, trying to remember how fast I am, how strong.

I'm not defenseless. I'm _not_.

Silence.

I move slowly towards the doorway, my bare feet padding silently across the icy tile floor. It is so utterly quiet, the air so completely still, that the sound of my sweatpants brushing together as I move seems to create an avalanche of noise.

I swallow, my hands balling into fists so tight, I can feel sharp pain erupting in my palms where my fingernails dig into the skin.

I reach the doorway to the bathroom after what seems like hours of tense anticipation, and place one hand on the grooves of the wooden trim encasing the doorframe. Taking in a painfully rigid breath, I take a half step across the threshold into the hallway.

It's like that saying, so silent you can hear a pin drop. It's unearthly, weighty, an awake kind of quiet that occurs right before something big happens.

My eyes rapidly scan the darkness, the closed door to May's bedroom, the open door of mine, the empty archway that leads to the living room and kitchen. There's no shifting of shadows, no creak of a floorboard, no heavy breathing.

There's nothing.

 _CRACK_.

The noise explodes by my ear. I twist so fast, my feet tangle around each other, and I fall heavily onto the carpeted hall floor, my widening eyes staring into the dimly lit bathroom. My chest heaves with the force of my panicked breaths, my racing heart as I prop myself up on my forearms.

That noise…it had been right behind me. I am sure of it.

The lights in the bathroom flicker, then burn out completely, plunging it into darkness.

I am frozen in terror, my senses screaming at me to move, to run, but my fear keeps me rooted and trembling on the floor.

The darkness shifts, and my mouth parts in horror at the hulking silhouette barely visible standing in the doorway. It lunges suddenly for me in flash of claws, fangs, shadows.

I throw up my arms, scrambling backwards so fast, that I let out a cry of sharp surprise when my back slams against the end of the hallway with a loud, resounding thud. I flinch away from the wall, stumbling to my feet, but when I whip my head up to look down the hall, I still in surprise.

There's nothing there. The light in the bathroom is on, like it had never gone out, and the apartment is filled with the white noise from outside: the revving of engines, honking of horns, the distant sirens.

May's door flies open, and she bursts into the hall, her glasses askew, her hair sticking out all over her head, and one arm pulled through her bathrobe, the other end of it dragging on the floor. She wields a lamp in her hands, her eyes big and frightened.

"Peter!" she gasps, scanning me quickly, taking in my cowering, frozen form, my shocked expression. "What's wrong? What the hell's going on?"

"N-nothing," I say. Or I try to say. It comes out more like a choked gasp of air. "It—I…"

I can't find the words, I can't even _breathe_ right, and there are funny noises coming out of throat.

May rushes towards me, setting the lamp haphazardly onto the floor before grabbing my face in her hands. "Peter. Peter, honey, breathe. Take a breath."

I inhale sharply, my wild eyes flickering between her worried face and the bathroom.

"Come on, honey, that's it," she gently push/pulls me into my bedroom, moving her hands to my shoulders as she gently steers me back onto my bed. May crouches down to meet my eyes. "Hey, you with me?"

I nod.

"Good boy," her eyes search my face. "Talk to me, hun. What's going on? What happened? Are you hurt?"

I shake my head. "N-no. No, I'm…it was just…just a dream."

"You had a nightmare?"

"I-I think so, yeah."

"Holy crap, Peter. That must have been some dream. What were you doing in the hallway?"

"I was…I was just—getting some water. I-in the bathroom. I think…I think I tripped," I stammer, trying to get my body to stop trembling.

"Are you sure?"

I nod.

May blows out a breath. "Okay. You're okay," I can't tell if she is reassuring me or herself as she puts a hand on her chest. "You scared the shit out of me. I thought someone was breaking into the apartment."

"S-sorry."

"It's okay," she takes another deep breath, standing to pull on the rest of her robe. May pulls me into a half hug, her hand rubbing circles across my back. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

"No, I'm fine. I'm sorry I scared you."

"Wanna talk about it?" she asks as I lean into her. "Your nightmare, what was it about?"

I tense. "I…I don't remember."

"You don't remember?" she repeats doubtfully.

"No, I…I just remember waking up all freaked. Th-that's all."

Her silence tells me she isn't sure whether or not she believes me. But she pats my back and pulls away. "You sure you don't need anything?"

"I-I'm sure," I give her a shaky smile.

May frowns at me, letting out a tired sigh. "Okay. Alright, well, do you think you can fall back asleep? It's still really early, and you have school tomorrow."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine."

"K. Good night, hun."

"'Night, May."

She heads out of my room, and I hear her pick the lamp off the floor before trudging tiredly back into her bedroom. When the door clicks shut, I am on my feet, surging for the light switch.

The room erupts into light as I close my own door and lean against it, my t-shirt riding up slightly as I slide down the wood until I am sitting on the floor. I can't slow my thundering heart, can't calm my senses, still on high alert, can't ease my rapid breaths.

My trembling hands reach up to grip at my hair, the bottom of my palms resting against my clammy forehead.

God, what is _happening_ to me?

I've been having nightmares almost every single night, but that was normal, wasn't it? When you go through something super dark and traumatic, you have bad dreams about it. That's just what happens.

But _this_? This is anything but normal.

Because I'd been completely awake when I heard those noises, when I saw that…that _thing_.

Am I going crazy? Has the strain gotten to me, made me snap?

Hallucinations are definitely a sign of losing your mind.

Or is it something else?

I shiver as I feel an extra stab of cold emanating from my chest, the faint feeling of a second pulse thrumming within me.

Maybe Venom has spread even more since Dr. Cho's experiment. Or maybe…maybe it hasn't, and this is its way of lashing out, of releasing its frustration at being kept contained when all it wants to do is grow, consume…

What do I _do_?

What _can_ I do, when the world's leading scientists, when the freaking _Avengers_ can't even figure it out?

My eyes begin to burn, and I squeeze them shut to prevent any tears from falling.

 _If you can feel it, you can fight it._

I still.

If you can feel it, you can fight it. That's what Bucky had told me before he left, the day I'd woken up back at the compound.

I can definitely feel it.

But how the _hell_ am I supposed to fight it?

What can I do against something I can't see? Can't touch?

Somehow, I don't think the Winter Soldier meant that I should actually try to physically fight any hallucinations that I might have.

I let out a ragged breath, completely freezing where I sit huddled on the floor, but I just wrap my arms tighter around myself.

I sit there with my lights firmly on, my back against the door, and my eyes wide open.

I don't move until dawn.

* * *

"Woah," Ned's eyes are big as I enter the gymnasium, zipping up my blue Midtown Tech sweatshirt over my P.E. uniform. "What happened to _you_?"

I frown, looking down at myself and not seeing anything. "What?"

"Peter, no offense, but you look terrible," Ned tells me with a frown. "When's the last time you slept?"

"Not sure," I admit as I slump onto the bleachers beside him.

"Well, it's a good thing today's the last day of school before break, 'cuz you look like you could really use some time off."

I blow out a breath. "Tell me about it."

I am more relieved than I can even say that in just a few hours, the school will close for two weeks, and that our last final of the day is P.E., where all we have to do is pretty much hang out until the bell rings. Why Coach Wilson insisted that we still had to dress out was beyond me.

"Dude, look," Ned holds up his phone.

I squint down at the screen. It's a picture of his Amazon account order list, and the item at the very top is…

I grab the phone from his hand to get a better look. "No way!"

"Yes way," Ned's grin is smug, but he can't hold the self-satisfied look for long, because he is way too excited. The pitch of his voice gets higher and higher with each word. "Night Legends 3 is on its way to my apartment as we speak! I am so psyched!"

"Dude," I hand him his phone back. "That's awesome. I didn't even know that game was out."

"How could you not know? We've been counting down the days for months!"

"Yeah, I've been a little...distracted lately."

"Well clear your schedule, dude, because we have some serious gaming to do later. I'll bring it by your place around six," Ned closes the Amazon app and pulls up youtube.

I watch our classmates mill around, the more athletic students playing basketball, but the majority all on their phones, scattered across the gym.

Frowning, I ask, "Why not your place?"

"You have the better tv," Ned replies. "Night Legends 3 should only be played in HD. Heh. That rhymed."

"Right."

We fall into silence, Ned scrolling through his phone while I try not to pass out on the bleachers. My eyelids feel like they weigh about fifty pounds, while my head is so light, it feels like it's going to just roll off my shoulders. God, I'm tired.

"Hey, Peter?"

"Hmm?"

"I know you are sick of me asking, but are you sure you're ok?" Ned looks up from his phone, meeting my eyes. "I know, I know. You're _fine_. But...I'm worried about you, man. You look like you haven't slept in a month, you almost bombed all your finals, we haven't hung out at all in like, _weeks_ , and you're acting...weird."

I open my mouth, then close it again as he continues, his expression full of concern. "Ever since you came back from your... _trip_...you've been quiet, and spacey, and...I don't know, it's like you're scared or paranoid or something. What's going on? Did something happen?"

Guilt worms its way into my stomach, heavy and unpleasant, even as I fight back my irritation at being constantly pestered into speaking.

I sigh. "Look, man, my trip was...exhausting. It took a lot out of me, and then coming back to more homework and finals than I could handle, plus trying to keep doing the uh-internship after school...I haven't gotten any sleep lately, and I'm just beat. But I promise, I'm fine. The weirdness is temporary."

I hope.

Ned's dark eyes search mine for a moment, before he nods. "Ok."

He goes back to looking at his phone, and I roll my neck, wincing at the resulting cracks.

"Whoa," Ned breathes suddenly, his eyes widening as he watches something on his phone.

"What?"

"Dude!" he looks at me, then his phone, then back at me. "Is this _you_?"

My brows furrow as I lean over his shoulder to watch the youtube video he has pulled up. Shock hits me with the intensity of a freight train, my eyes getting bigger than Ned's, and my jaw dropping as I yank the phone out of his hands to see better.

Oh my god.

It _is_ me.

It's Spiderman, fighting about eight or nine guys in a dark parking garage.

Except, instead of the red and blue suit Mr. Stark had built me, I'm wearing one that is entirely pitch black, save for the white lenses covering my eyes.

Horror slithers down my spine, my skin beginning to prickle with the force of it. Chill after chill washes through me, sending goosebumps erupting all over my arms.

I don't remember this fight at all.

I feel frozen, stuck in terrified trance on the bleachers as I watch myself in the video; black webs shoot from my wrists, attaching around some guy's neck and yanking him up into the air only to slam my fist into the side of his head.

"Holy shit, Peter. That was…" Ned can't even finish his sentence, and I can't find the words to respond.

I don't recognize myself, don't recognize the efficient brutality of my moves, the speed and otherworldly agility that can only come with a lifetime of training, the violent, almost animalistic way I am taking them all down. The thugs aren't even trying to fight back anymore. They are running, shouting for mercy.

I don't give them any.

I watch as I shoot another black web at the final man, who's trying to crawl away on his hands and knees, and yank him back so hard, his body goes flying into the security camera, and the screen goes dark.

My eyes drop to the caption below the video, "SPIDER-MAN GOES DARK".

I think I'm going to vomit.

"Peter?" Ned asks, his voice quiet and uncertain as I wordlessly hand him back the phone.

 _Crack_.

I jump, my head whipping to the side as my wide eyes scan the gymnasium. Swallowing thickly, my pulse begins to race.

Not again. Not here.

 _Crack, crack._

"Peter?"

I'm on my feet, my hands balled into fists as I turn in half circles, trying to find where it's coming from. A shadow shoots across my peripherals, and I whirl, facing the exit of the gymnasium. MJ sits a couple yards away, four benches below us, drawing in her sketchbook.

"Dude, you're freaking me out. Are you okay?"

She looks up from her sketchbook, frowning at me, and as she shifts, I can see what she's drawing.

I feel like the floor is falling beneath my feet, like I am tumbling down the rabbit hole, descending straight into madness.

Black, jagged lines on the page form a hulking figure with narrowed, white eyes, and an open jaw filled with rows of vicious fangs. It's _exactly_ as I saw myself in my dream, in the one where I killed all of the Avengers.

I'm shaking with the force of my panic, and before I realize what I am doing, I am striding towards her and yanking the sketchbook from her hands.

"Hey!"

I look down at the page, sure that it had just been my eyes tricking me, that if I saw it up close, the drawing would be different.

But it's not.

It's so realistic, it might as well be a photograph, and gripped in the claws of the black behemoth are the shattered remains of Ironman's helmet and Captain America's shield.

"What the _hell_ , Peter?" Michelle snaps angrily, reaching for her sketchbook.

 _CRACK_.

I look up at her.

Directly behind MJ, a jet black face looms, its maw opening, fangs glistening as it lunges forward with a monstrous shriek.

A gasp wrenches from my chest as I leap back, dropping the sketchbook as my arms surge up protectively in front of me. It clatters to the floor of the gym, landing face down, the front most pages crumpling and creasing with a crunch.

"Dude!" Ned is on his feet, his voice and face filled with shock.

MJ bends, picking up the sketchbook and looking with dismay at the ruined pages. She tries to flatten them out, and my stomach lurches.

There's no drawing of the monster, of Venom.

She'd been sketching a self-portrait.

Her eyes look up at me, filled with reproach, with confusion. "What is _wrong_ with you?" she demands.

"Hey! What's going on over there?" Coach Wilson is standing from his chair at the other end of the gymnasium, and I feel the eyes of every student turn to stare at me.

There are no words to describe my horror, my shame. Terrified, _mortified_ , I begin backing up towards the set of double doors leading to the locker room. "I-I'm sorry," I stammer out before turning and running for the doors.

I don't bother stopping to change. I seize my clothes, stuffing them in my backpack and yanking it over my shoulder as I run through the locker room and into the main hall of the school.

The empty halls echo with my pounding footsteps, my harsh, panicked breaths.

Shadows chase after me.

And a voice whispers my name.

* * *

 **Tony Stark**

I reach up with my left hand, unbuttoning the top few buttons of my gray Cucinelli shirt as my right hand stretches towards the handle of my mug of steaming black coffee. This is my...is it fifth? No fourth. No, pretty sure it's my fifth cup. Pepper would shake her head at me, but drinking obscene amounts of coffee trumps drinking the same amount of say, brandy. I lift the mug to my lips, downing the rest even though it is near scalding.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice fills my office.

" _You have an incoming call."_

"If it's anyone other than Pepper, send them to my voicemail," I say, setting down the mug. My hands move to press over the top half of my face as I let out a sigh. I don't have the patience to deal with anyone else today.

" _It's Steve Rogers_."

I peek one eye out from beneath my fingers. My hands drop entirely when the Boy Scout's face appears on the monitor of my computer.

"You still have the beard I see," I lean back in my chair. "Have you gotten attached to it? No pun intended."

"It's good to see you too," Steve gives me a small smile.

"How's the bicentennial man?"

"Bucky just got out of the procedure," he replies, frowning at the reference I know he doesn't get. "We won't know for sure if it worked until he wakes up, but the Wakandans are hopeful."

"Good. That's good."

"You sound thrilled," Steve remarks with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, I'm not about to go skipping down the halls singing Hallelujah," I say with a snort. "But it is good news. And that's getting rarer nowadays."

"I heard about Waller and Denison. You guys have been busy."

"Fighting the good fight," I say, lifting up my mug then remembering I had already finished the rest of the coffee. Damn. Time for a sixth. "Don't worry. There's plenty of Hydra ass for you and Barnes to hunt down as soon as he's cleared."

"Nice of you to leave some for us," he smirks, then looks at me for a long, scrutinizing moment, his voice softening. "How's the kid?"

My smile is tight. "Like I said, good news is rare nowadays."

"That bad?"

"Worse," I pinch the bridge of my nose, my eyes briefly falling shut. "We're grasping at straws here, and none of the files we've recovered from the Hydra operatives have given us anything to go off of. The damn parasite is spreading. The kid won't say anything, but he's...it's not looking good."

I pull the computer's keyboard towards me, tapping at the keys and swiping the touchpad to send him a video file. "Found this today."

Steve's face is grim, his brows creasing with concern as he and I both watch the black clad teenager ruthlessly beating the shit out of nine armed men. "I wish I could say the suit was one of my brilliant upgrades, or that the kid's been spending too much time with Natasha," I say tightly. "but clearly, Venom has been taking the kid out for a joyride while he sleeps. I'm thinking of having him moved to the compound."

"Jesus," Steve mutters, shaking his head. "At least they were criminals and not innocent civilians. Maybe one of the Wakandan scientists could shed some light on the situation."

"I've already sent his highness everything we have on Venom. So far, they haven't come up with anything either," I lean back in my chair again, feeling like I've had zero cups of coffee instead of five. "Helen's been doing some experiments, but so far they've done more harm than good."

"How's he handling it all?"

"Like you would, I imagine. Puts on a brave face while he struggles in silence," I reply with a grim curve of my lips. "The typical noble hero shit. I don't think he's said a word about what happened to anyone since we rescued him."

"You should talk to him, Tony," Steve says. "That kid practically worships you. And you've had your share of trauma that you've had to learn to deal with."

"Thanks for the reminder," I say dryly. "I've tried to get him to open up, but he's sealed up tighter than a clam, and I'm not great at the whole talk about your feelings thing. Especially with...smaller humans."

"Luckily for you, we know an expert in that field."

"Who, Barton?" I scoff. "First of all, he has no experience with teenagers, that I'm aware of. Second, the man would probably rather kill me than talk to me."

"Couldn't hurt to try."

"Says the man safely hiding out in the jungle."

Steve smiles before his face sobers. "Hang in there, Tony. We'll be there as soon as we can to help."

"I'm counting on it," I say as I end the call.

Maybe a visit to Barton's farm is in order. Clint might actually have some decent advice on how to talk to the kid. And if I can get him to open up, maybe we can get some answers.

Maybe I can at least take some of the burden off of the kid's ridiculously skinny shoulders.

* * *

 **A/N: Blown away. I am blown away by you wonderful people. The amount and the quality of your reviews are top notch, and are seriously my lifeblood. I adore each and every one of you.**

 **I'm so glad you all loved the last chapter! Particularly the Scott and Tasha section! One of you even suggested I do a spin off fic featuring their dynamic, you liked it so much. That's definitely something I may do in the future! Because writing them together is an absolute riot! XD**

 **Many, many thanks to my beta, PippinStrange. Your fangirling and commentary and sound effects make ME fangirl all over the place, and they keep me writing! Thank you for all of your assistance, suggestions, and just being the amazing you that you are. All you people go over to her page and read Down Came the Rain if you are a fan of Spiderman whump, Dad Tony, and insanely good characterization.**

 **GUYS. One of my reviewers, kotonohaku, left an amazing review (which I will also reply to in the reply section of this author's note), and informed me that they had written a one-shot inspired by this story, and that it is on Archive of Our Own under their same username. So I looked them up. AND DAMN. Holy crap, people! GO READ IT. GO FIND IT. I'd post a link if this site wasn't so dang stubborn. But it is amazing, and chilling, and heart wrenching, and so so good.**

* * *

 **DarylDixon'sLover: Yeah...I am not kind to him. lol**

 **Bunyx: Thank you! Omg that would be the best! I would definitely consider writing a spinoff fic in the future, I adore writing them!**

 **GinaBoo: Lol! I don't think it's pathetic at all! That's what I do with my favorite fics! Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm so glad you are loving this story!**

 **Monkeybaby: Thanks! :)**

 **Shivrashi: Yay! Thank you!**

 **Trucejopseh: Thank you! And yes, that is definitely my nod to Stranger Things! :D That show is amaaaazing**

 **Modern Demigod Hero: Glad you liked it!**

 **Chibijenn4: Thank you! I love protective Tony too! Glad you are enjoying!**

 **Nathissica: Lol! I couldn't resist switching roles for that one! XD Love that you thought it was hilarious, as I cracked myself up writing it. AND YAY SOMEONE GOT MY CHUCK REFERENCE! Best show ever. Just sayin. That whole part of the chapter was basically my nod to the show, like it could totally be twisted into an episode of Chuck. lol! Thank you so much!**

 **Heroes21: Thanks! Hope this was quick enough!**

 **Gandalf537: Dude, I love reading your reviews! Eeeeh! Thank you!**

 **TeamCaptain2016: Lol! Yeah, I enjoy messing with these characters too much, and they definitely deserve some pity.**

 **Sea-urchin-the-ninja: OMG thank you! I'm so happy you are loving it!**

 **Steelmagnolia247: Not weird at all, and a huge compliment! Wow! That's what I strive for, to have you guys picture the story in your heads like I do in mine, and to keep the characters as in character as possible, so I LOVE hearing that!**

 **The Revolutionary Winter Quail: Lol! Thanks! XD I laughed all the way through writing it!**

 **Kotonohaku: *tears* Oh man, there are no words to describe my appreciation of you taking the time to create an account so you could leave a review. Seriously, it means a lot to me and THANK YOU SO MUCH! I love how much you love it, and love hearing when people reread it! Omg. I can't even. Thank you so much. I totally went straight to Ao3, which I've never been on actually, to read your one-shot. SO chilling. Soooooo good. I was so tense reading it, and it broke my heart, which means that it was wonderful. Beautifully written. I loved the combo of eerie details and vague narration in spots, it made for an incredible read. You are an amazing writer!**

 **Guest: Thank you so so so much!**

 **StarSteeper: Eeeeee! yay! I love hearing that!**

 **MewWinx96: Hi! Thank you! Glad you enjoyed it! I loved writing their mission! And thought it was sweet of Tony to try and keep Peter from freaking out, even though things still ended up going so south. Thanks for the review!**

 **10-lanterns-and-a-dreamcatcher: Wow! that's dedication! lol! I am so happy to hear how much you like it! This little series has become very dear to my heart, so thank you!**

* * *

 **My heart is so full from your love! Keep it coming guys, and I will keep these quick updates coming as best as I can! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter too, leave a review below to let me know your thoughts!**

 **Coming up:**

 **Chapter Ten: Do You Hear What I Hear?**

 **Peter, terrified at the knowledge that Venom's been controlling him while he sleeps, horrified at the vivid hallucinations he's experiencing, and mortified by his reaction at school, returns to his apartment, only to get another piece of bad news. Things escalate from there when May returns home, as Peter is force to come to the awful realization, that he might not be safe to be around others anymore.**

 **PippinStrange can testify to how much anxiety I got writing this chapter. I nearly made myself sick I was so wound up, more than when I wrote Peter getting freaking tortured in the last story.**

 **Until next time, lovelies!**

 **Queen**


	10. Do You Hear What I Hear?

**Chapter Ten: Do You Hear What I Hear?**

 **Tony Stark**

I find Romanov in one of the common areas, standing at a tall table instead of using one of the bar stools around it, her laptop flipped up. She closes it as I enter, but not before I catch sight of the detailed map, the small photo of Bruce Banner in the corner.

"You busy?" I ask, hands in my pockets.

"Not anymore," she replies with a small smile. "Steve call you?"

I give her a look. "He called you, too?"

"We keep in touch," she says with a little shrug. "Don't worry, Stark. You're still his favorite."

I ignore that part.

"Up for a scenic drive around the countryside? Take your mind off of things?" I offer.

Natasha tilts her head to the side, giving me a flat look. "You just want me to go with you to see Clint, so that he doesn't murder you the minute he opens the door, don't you?"

I place a hand over my heart. "Wow. I'm actually-you know what? I am actually hurt. Here I am, just trying to cheer up a friend, and you go accusing me of ulterior motives."

"I'll go with you."

"Oh, thank god. Really didn't feel like getting blood on my new jeans."

"Just because I'm there doesn't mean that he won't pummel you to death or put an arrow through your eye."

"Yeah, but you'll protect me, right?"

She is already striding for the garage, not saying another word.

"Natasha?" I rush to follow her. "Romanov. You'll protect me, right?"

No answer.

She will. I think.

Shit.

* * *

 **Peter Parker**

By the time I open the door to my apartment, turn on every single light we have, and collapse on the couch, I have eight missed calls from Ned and a crap ton of texts. I take a deep breath as I scroll through them.

N: _DUDE_

 _ARE U OK_

 _WHER DID U GO_

 _?_

 _Coach Wilson is totally freaking_

 _I'M freaking_

 _Did you leave the school?_

 _MJ won't stop asking me questions_

 _I told her u slipped on ice, hit your head this morning. I don't think she's buying it._

 _She's def not buying it._

 _Peter_

 _DUDE PLZ TXT ME BACK_

 _I'm super worried_

 _What happened?_

 _?_

 _?_

I have to take a moment to press my hands over my face, that swirling knot of emotion and anxiety in my chest pressing against my rib cage like it's going to implode.

Scrubbing my face, I pick my phone up off my lap and text back.

" _Srry. I'm ok. At home._ "

I watch the ellipses appear and disappear as Ned types. I think hard for a moment, then text, " _I think I fell asleep. Had a nightmare. Like a night terror sort of thing."_

There's a pause, then he responds. " _A night terror...during the day? U looked pretty awake to me, dude."_

I notice my hands haven't stopped trembling since earlier. It's making it hard to type on the phone's small keyboard. " _...yeah. I srsly havn't slept in ages. I think it's messing with me. Increased metabolism doesn't help."_

Please, Ned, please just accept that answer. I don't have the energy or the brain capacity to come up with something better.

Ned finally texts back, " _R u sure?"_

 _"Yeah. I'm ok. Lying down at home."_

 _"Ok… is it still cool if I come over later?"_

I want to say no. I really don't want to make up more excuses, to throw all these half assed lies at my best friend.

But, if I'm honest with myself, I'm also terrified of being alone right now.

" _Yeah."_

 _"K cool,"_ Ned types back. _"See u around 6. Maybe take a nap. Zzzz"_

I let the phone fall onto the couch beside me. Leaning forward, I clasp my hands around the back of my neck, forcing myself to take deep, calming breaths.

It feels pretty impossible to even remotely chill out.

That video…

My stomach lurches again at the thought of it. The black suit...the way I took out those men...I don't remember it. Not at all. Not even a snippet of a memory, or the vague flutterings of a forgotten dream.

I strain my mind with the force of just trying to _remember_.

But there's nothing.

Which means that things are even worse than I could have imagined.

My hallucinations, for that's what they _have_ to be, are getting worse, getting more intense and more frequent. I can picture what my freak out in the gym must have looked like through MJ's eyes, through Ned's, can imagine what they must have thought as I started tweaking out.

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut. God, I can't believe I ripped the sketchbook out of her hands like that and ruined her drawings. The look on her face...on Ned's…

This is spiralling out of control. I can't stop seeing things, can't figure out what is real and what isn't, and that makes me dangerous.

And worse...I now know why I've been so completely exhausted, not just because I have nightmares and wake up in the early hours of the morning, unable to return to sleep, but because...Venom's been controlling me, waiting until I am asleep to make its move.

My shoulders shudder from the force of the chill running down my body. I get to my feet, unable to keep still any longer, and begin pacing the floor.

What do I do?

What am I supposed to do?

I'm not even in control of my own body, my own brain. The thought is so terrifying, so violating, I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from gagging.

I have to call Mr. Stark...or Happy...or somebody.

They have to know how bad it's getting, have to know how urgent the situation has become. I'll sit through whatever painful experiment I have to.

God, at this point, I'd let them strap me to a table, shove a gag in my mouth and electrocute me to get this thing out.

I could activate the emergency beacon in my watch, and someone would be here in minutes to take me to the compound. This definitely counts as an emergency in my book. But what would I tell May? Ned? If I suddenly vanished again… especially right before Christmas… It would kill May. Or she'd kill me.

Either way, it wouldn't be good.

But staying here while this gets worse?

Not good either.

I lift my wrist to look at my watch and freeze where I am standing in the middle of my living room.

Oh my god.

It's gone.

Both my wrists are completely bare.

Shit. _Shit_! Where the hell is it?

I drop to my knees next to my backpack, hurriedly unzipping it and dumping the contents all over the floor. I rifle through the mess of clothes, papers, books, and pencils, but the watch isn't there. I check the pockets of my jeans, my jacket, even the sweatshirt I am still wearing over my blue and yellow P.E. uniform.

My hands pull at my hair as I stand, my mind racing in a complete panic.

When was the last time I had it on? I don't even remember taking it off. I never take it off, except for when I shower.

I race for the bathroom, flinging open the door and rushing to the sink, lifting up the discarded, damp towels and piles of clothes on the floor and shaking them out before tossing them carelessly back down.

It's not here either.

I let out a groan of frustrated dismay.

My room. It has to be in my room.

I practically fly there, tearing through the knot of blankets at the foot of my bed, rummaging through the junk in and on top of my side table, through the drawers and mountains of books and computer parts on my desk. I kick laundry around the floor, shaking them and feeling through the material of their pockets for any sign of it, my movements becoming less coordinated and more frantic by the second.

Where is it-where is it-where is it?

Mr. Stark is going to kill me.

What could I have done with it? I always keep it on, even in my Spiderman suit! There's no way I would have left it anywhere.

I tear through the entire apartment in a whirlwind of panic; the living room, the kitchen, even May's room...I check every surface, every drawer, every spot it could have fallen.

But it's gone.

I stand once again in the living room, my breathing shallow and ragged, sweat rolling down my neck, my back.

Then a terrifying thought hits me.

What if...what if _Venom_ had gotten rid of it? What if...when it was controlling me...it had hidden it, destroyed it, abandoned it? I didn't even know how many times it had taken over in my sleep. Once? Twice? Every night since I'd returned from being kidnapped?

I press my hands on either side of my head, feeling dizzy and sick.

I have to call Mr. Stark. I have to-

 _Creeeak._

My body locks up. The sound came from the end of the hallway around the corner, not the strange crackling, icy noises I've been hearing, but the sound of a door slowly opening.

I stare at the opening of the hallway, where the only bedroom I can see is my own, my door wide open. The apartment is utterly silent.

 _Thud...thud...thud._

There are footsteps, heavy and slow and dragging, making their way through the hall, towards the living room.

Towards me.

I am holding my breath, my heartbeat tripling its pace as I slowly, silently ease backwards towards the front door of my apartment.

 _Thud...thud...thud._

 _Crack_.

I'm ten steps from the door, then six, then four as I reach a shaking hand behind me for the doorknob, my eyes fixed on the empty archway.

 _Thud...thud.._.

Slick, black claws creep slowly around the corner of the hallway, the monstrous hand wrapping around the wall's edge, the claws sinking deep into the wood.

Heart in my throat, I whirl, lunging for the door.

It swings open, and I rear back defensively-

-It's May, her purse in one hand, a plastic bag full of take out in the other. "Hey, hon, I brought home thai to celebr-what the hell's going on?!"

I twist back to look at the hallway.

There's nothing there. The wall is completely smooth, untouched.

Aunt May moves into the apartment, her eyes wide, her face slack with shock as she deposits her keys, purse, and the food onto the kitchen counter. She does a slow circle, taking in the open drawers and cupboards, the upended sofa cushions, the clothes and blankets, and all manner of junk strewn across the apartment left in the wake of my panicked hunt for my watch.

I can't swallow past the swollen lump in my throat, can't unclench the muscles of my stomach, can't fight the burning of my eyes.

"Peter," she breathes, staring at me with complete confusion, with shocked outrage. "What the hell happened here?"

"I-I-I lost the watch Mr. Stark gave me," I say in a small voice.

May's voice rises incredulously. "So you had to tear apart the entire apartment? Jesus, Peter! Look at this place! You-wait, why are you still in your P.E. clothes?"

I glance down at my Midtown Tech sweatshirt and my sweatpants. "Uh...I-"

"Peter," she moves closer to me, her worried brown eyes boring into my face, reading the emotions I am trying to suppress as hard as I can. May takes my face in her hands, her skin a thousand times warmer than mine, nearly making me flinch away. "Honey, you're kind of starting to scare me. No-scratch that, I've been scared for awhile now. What's the matter? What's going on? This can't all be about some watch."

I stare up at her, trying to will the tears away from my wide eyes, clenching my jaw as I do so. What can I say? What could I possibly say right now? I've exhausted my supply of lies, of excuses, and my head is so heavy...somehow overly full and utterly blank at the same time.

May's voice cracks with emotion. " _Please_ talk to me. What is going on with you? I can't help you if you won't talk to me about it."

"I'm-"

"Goddamn it, Peter, I swear, if you say the words 'I'm fine' to me again, I am taking away your Spiderman suit for the rest of your life," May threatens, her hands moving to rest on my shoulders, giving me a gentle shake. "You're not fine. You haven't _been_ fine since you got back from that- that mission. What the hell happened over there? What happened to you?"

My mouth clamps shut, and I shake my head slightly as I step out of her touch. I can't do this. I can't tell her, and I can't lie to her. I can't-I can't-

Aunt May's face falls for a moment, and then the lines of her mouth tighten. "Fine."

She strides for her purse, pulling out her phone.

"What are you doing?" I croak.

"I'm calling that no-good Tony Stark," May says shortly. "Something happened to you over there, and I am finding out what it is. I'll march myself right up to that compound of his and tie him to a freaking chair if I have to."

"May, don't-"

"Zip it!" she snaps with a glare, pressing the phone to her ear, and I notice with horror how wet her eyes are as she points at me. "You had your chance. I am finding out what happened, and then we are going to talk about it and-and get you some therapy or-I don't know, something, get _myself_ therapy at least, and get this figured out."

My ears pick up the dial tone from her phone, the sound filling me with sudden alarm, and I find myself moving forward. "May, give me the phone."

"Peter, this is happening whether you like it, or not. I'm tired of not knowing what happened to my boy, of not knowing how to help you."

I make a small noise as my insides constrict violently, my pulse starting to race again. "Give me the phone."

"Don't you take that tone with me, mister."

"Give it to me!" Anger and panic swell in equal measure, gripping me in their icy clutches. My hand strikes out, yanking the phone from her. It cracks and shatters beneath my grip, the pieces clattering to the floor.

May stares at me, her mouth falling open in shock. " _Peter Benjamin Parker!"_

I'm trembling with the force of emotions writhing in a tangled snarl in my chest, making me feel sick, lightheaded. I spin, heading for my bedroom.

"Uh-uh! I don't think so!" May's hand grips my shoulder, whirling me around, and I yank away from her harshly.

"Will you just _stop_ already?"

" _Excuse_ me?"

"Stop harassing me. Stop smothering me. Just _stop_!" I breathe heavily, my blood freezing over. "Leave me alone."

"What the hell is the matter with you?" May exclaims. "You don't get to take that tone of voice with me. You don't get to tear apart the apartment and take my phone out of my effing hands! You don't get to do all this and expect me to sit by and do _nothing_! I don't know why you're struggling, or why you won't let me help you, but this? This is unacceptable, do you hear m-"

"You're not my mom!" I snap finally, the room spinning slightly. "So quit acting like it and leave me the hell alone!"

She stares at me, her mouth parted, something like devastation on her stunned face.

Someone clears their throat awkwardly, and I look past my aunt to see Ned standing in the open doorway of the apartment, his eyes huge. "Uh...I can...I can just...should I go?"

I put a clammy hand to my head, the floor swaying, lurching beneath my feet. I stagger back, hitting the wall.

"Peter?" May's voice cracks with worry, both her and Ned moving towards me.

Her hands reach for me, but my skin is tingling, prickling with raw nerves. "Don't touch me!" I nearly growl.

"Dude!" Ned's face has never looked so aghast.

They're crowding me, trapping me, smothering me with their concern, their worry. I don't want it, don't need it, don't want anything to do with it. I can't stand it, can't breathe-

I shove past them.

I have to get out. I have to-

Ned's hand touches my forearm. "Peter-!"

"I said _don't touch me_!" I whirl, shoving him away from me. Ned flies back from the force of my push, his back slamming against the wall so hard, the plaster splinters and cracks, dust falling onto the floor.

May lets out a small yell of surprise, rushing for him. Ned's face is blank with shock as he slides down the wall to sit on the floor.

The sight hits me like a slap across the face, like I just leapt from a cliff and plunged myself into the Arctic ocean. My jaw drops. Oh my _god_.

 _What did I just do?_

May looks up at me from where she kneels beside Ned, her face reflecting the complete horror I feel inside. Her expression snaps me from my terrified trance.

I turn, and race from the apartment.

* * *

The door of the train slides open with a loud hiss, and I stumble out onto the slick sidewalk, my shoes slipping on the slush. I careen right into the eight foot tall chain link fence, my fingers coming up to grip the thin, icy metal, stabilizing myself as I look out across the snow covered football field at my school.

I hadn't even meant to come here.

I'd just fled in a panicked rush, my mind whirling and spinning. My body must have just instinctively followed one of my usual routes.

I move more carefully, keeping my hand on the railing as I walk down the icy stairs, the train clattering loudly on the tracks above as it heads for the next stop. Hands deep in my pockets, I start to trudge across the white, blanketed football field, following the worn down path at the end of it where everyone's footsteps had packed down the snow into a muddy slush. The water soaks through my shoes, my socks, but I can't find the energy to care.

My vision blurs as tears fill my eyes and begin rolling down my cheeks.

What had I done?

If I had anything at all in my stomach, I would hurl it up right here in the snow.

The entire scene plays on repeat in my head, each time another knife stabbing into my chest.

I'd told May...I'd told her that-

I stop, doubling over, my stomach heaving for a moment as I gag.

Why had I said that? Why had I done any of it?

I make my way across the field and cross over to the side entrance of the school, a set of long stairs descending towards the street. My footsteps crunch along the packed snow as I walk halfway up the steps and collapse onto them, huddling over myself.

I need to...I need to call someone…

Panic cinches at my chest at the thought.

No, I don't want to do that. I _definitely_ don't want to do that. I start to shove the thought away, my heart pounding.

Wait-

I squeeze my eyes shut, the wet snow starting to seep through my sweatpants.

That isn't me. That fear, that anger. It's not mine.

I _have_ to call Happy. I have to get to the compound before I lose control again, before...before I hurt someone else. I slip my phone out of my pocket, ignoring the thirty nine missed calls I have from Ned's phone, my fingers trembling as they hover over the green icon next to Happy's name.

I hesitate, my gut tightening with dread.

Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should just-

I push the green icon.

I wipe my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, my chest and throat tight as I press the phone hard against my ear. The dial tone begins ringing.

" _Kid? Are you alright?_ "

"…No."

" _What's wrong? Why didn't you activate your emergency beacon?_ " Happy's voice is sharp, tense.

"I-it's not an emergency…I mean, it _is_ , it's just… can you come pick me up?"

There's muffled voices in the background, then a moment of quiet as I wait for his response.

" _I'm on my way."_

My shoulders slump with relief, even as I curl in on myself even tighter from the unbearable cold coming from within me. The only warmth to be found is in the wetness from my eyes, but even that chills to icy temperatures the moment it hits my cheeks.

I scrub the tears away impatiently.

"Th-thanks, Happy."

" _Of course, kid. Are you somewhere safe?_ "

I glance around me, but the schoolyard is utterly empty, and I sit alone on the snow covered stairs.

"Yeah."

" _Good. I'll be there in ten minutes, ok? Just stay put."_

Ten minutes? That's much faster than I had expected. He must not have been at the compound like I thought.

"'K."

" _How come I'm tracing your phone and not your tracker, huh? What happened to your watch?_ "

"I…I think I ditched it," I admit. "I'm sorry."

" _What happened?"_ his voice softens slightly, and I have to clamp my free hand over my eyes, as if that will keep my tears from falling. I have to take a few shuddering breaths, and when I am certain I won't sob the moment I speak, I tell him.

"…I…I yelled at May," my insides writhe and constrict with a fresh onslaught of guilt, of horror. "I yelled at her, Happy. I said such _terrible_ things. I-I don't even know why I said them. And I…I-I hurt Ned."

The words choke in my throat, and I am clenching my teeth so hard, I think they might shatter. My best friend, and the only family I had left…I had _hurt_ them. I'd shoved Ned so hard the wall had _cracked_. That horrible moment plays over and over in my head, and I can still hear the loud crunch as his back hit the plaster, can still see his wide, shocked eyes.

"Happy, I don't…I don't think I'm safe, anymore."

" _What do you mean?_ " he asks sharply. _"Is there someone there with you? Are you in danger?"_

"No, no, I mean… I mean _I'm_ not safe. The o-others aren't safe from, from _me_ , anymore," I press my palm tighter against my closed eyelids as my tears manage to squeeze out from beneath my hand. " _God_ , I-I can't live like this. What's _wrong_ with me?"

" _Just hang tight, buddy_ ," Happy's voice is gentle, sympathetic. I don't deserve his sympathy. " _I'm almost there, and then we'll get you to the compound, get you looked over, alright? Sound good?_ "

It does. Maybe they can lock me up in one of the holding cells beneath the facility. Put me somewhere I can't hurt anybody until they can figure this out. _If_ they can figure this out.

Maybe…

Maybe that's just it. Maybe they can't figure it out because there isn't anything _to_ figure out.

Maybe there isn't any alien monster to take out of me.

Because maybe, _I_ am the one who is the monster.

" _Kid_?"

"What? Y-yeah, yeah, sounds good," I say. "See you in a minute."

I hang up the phone before he can protest, placing it in the pocket of my sweatshirt. I huddle in on myself, trembling and shivering in the cold as I hurriedly wipe the tears from my face. I don't want to be a blubbering mess when Happy gets here.

I shiver and stare at the steps below me, covered in several inches of blindingly white snow, my footprints leaving dark, ugly marks in the pale, glistening mounds.

Minutes later, I hear the slosh of the tires rolling through the icy puddles by the curb, and the squeaky whine of the brakes as Happy pulls up at the bottom of the steps.

I lift my head, blinking blearily at him as he exits the driver's seat and looks up at me, one hand still on the door, his eyes widening.

"What the hell, kid? I thought you told me you were someplace safe!"

My brows furrow as I stand, hugging my arms close to my body as I head down the stairs, my shoes crunching against the snow. "I was, I mean, I am," I say, confused.

Happy scowls as he rounds the front of the car to cross over to my side. "Sitting in the snow in front of your closed school does _not_ qualify as safe, kid. Jesus, you're freezing! You'll be lucky if you don't get hypothermia!"

"I'm always freezing," I remind him wearily as he ushers me into the vehicle.

I tremble, my teeth beginning to chatter as Happy rushes back to the driver's seat and puts the heater on full blast. He curses as he pulls too quickly back onto the road, the car swerving slightly on the ice.

Happy begins pulling off his jacket. It gets stuck on his right wrist, prompting more cursing as he tries to keep the car going straight while pulling at the sleeve with his teeth.

It's a ridiculous sight. I might have laughed or made some kind of joke if I wasn't feeling so out of it. A tired sort of numbness is settling over me, making it hard to keep my eyes open.

"Here," he says finally, tossing the now freed jacket onto my lap.

"Thanks, Happy," I mumble, pulling it over me and leaning against the window.

He's talking again, but I am just so tired, I can't make out his words. I sigh heavily, shuddering beneath the weight of his large, warm jacket, and let sleep take me.

* * *

 **A/N: Seriously, this chapter actually physically hurt me to write. I was so tense, so invested, and my heart was breaking a little even though I am the one in control of this ride. Lol.**

 **So I have continued my trek of writing like an utter maniac. Last night I blinked and realized I had a pounding headache and had been writing for six hours. Whoops! lol! My beta had to tell me to quit acting like a crazy person, go to bed, and take care of myself. She's so good to me. XD The good news is, I think I will be able to finish this story before I leave for my vacation to Mexico on the twentieth! I'm hoping so anyways! Looks like it will be in total about eighteen or nineteen chapters. And I am almost at the point where I am writing the finale while the next few chapters are being edited.**

 **Major thanks to my beta, keeping me sane, keeping me healthy, and keeping me in check! lol! Also keeping me inspired. Guys, PippinStrange posted a one-shot of Spiderman meets Deadpool, and it is a RIOT. It was my go to when I was getting too stressed and on edge from my dark, suspenseful writing. Then I'd go reread that and laugh and feel so much better. She seriously NAILED Ryan Reynolds as Deadpool. Like, it is so good I can hear both their voices in my head and it is hilarious. Also read her amazing, heart wrenching story, Down Came the Rain. You won't regret it.**

 **Also, if you haven't read kotonohaku's Venom inspired one shot on Archive of Our Own, go check it out! All too quickly, everything is gone is the title, and it is as eerie as it is well written. It will give you chills! So good!**

 **Now onto review replies, you amazing people, you!**

* * *

 **DarylDixon'sLover: I love how you always manage to be the first reviewer! lol!**

 **Kotonohaku: Thank you so much! Writing these intense chapters always have me on the edge of my seat when I'm writing them, so I love hearing that I was successful in putting you on edge with me! THANK YOU! :)**

 **Nathissica: I love that you always get my references/ nods to media! That scene with Venom over MJ's shoulder was totally driven from Insidious! That scene scared the CRAP out of me when I saw that in theaters. lol! Glad you liked it!**

 **Dimensional Phaser: lol, indeed! Poor kid, Im not done with him yet!**

 **GinaBoo: Thank you! I really missed Steve in this fic, so I had to throw him back in for a brief phone call with Tony. I'm glad you're looking forward to their conversation! THANK YOU SO MUCH! I am honored that this is your favorite. Omg thank you :)**

 **Bunyx: Omg thanks! Yay chills! That's a good sign for me as a writer. lol! Glad you are enjoying!**

 **Monkeybaby: Thanks!**

 **Detective Rysposito: *cries* WOW. Thank you. Thank you so very much for that incredible review! Seriously warmed my heart and made me feel all giddy and inspired to write! Your kind words are BEYOND appreciated.**

 **10-lanterns-and-a-dream-catcher: Thanks! Happy to hear that it is inspiring! If you have ideas, you should definitely give writing a shot and start posting! :)**

 **TeamCaptain2016: I am SOO happy to hear that I was able to make your day better! Also sorry to hear that it was a frustrating first day back. Hope it's improving!**

 **StarStepper: EEEEEE thank you! Omg that was so nice!**

 **WolfsHonor: Oh my word, your review though! First of all, thank you for taking the time to leave it, with your tendencies to be a silent reader, I am seriously honored and very, very appreciative. It was very intimidating to try and write all these Avengers in first person when I wasn't sure I was even comfortable with Peter yet when I first started Paint it Black, but it has been an excellent writing practice and learning process. So thank you! SO thrilled to hear that I helped respark your interest! As for your Steve/Nat question... I feel like they could work very well together as a couple. Their dynamic in Winter Soldier was really, really good, and as much as I loved Age of Ultron, I didn't absolutely adore the Bruce/Natasha heavy focus. It felt like too much too fast, and I didn't love how they would just abandon everyone and everything for each other when they'd had sort of no relationship up to that point. I do think Steve and Nat could be great together, so I tried to keep everything sort of canon, with their flirty/close friend sort of dynamic, as well as her feelings for Bruce in this story. Wow, that was a lengthy reply to your review! lol. THANK YOU SO MUCH again for taking the time to do that. It made me so happy.**

 **Guest: Omg thank you so much!**

 **Evelris: Thanks! I really loved Scott and Natasha working together as well. So fun to write! There's SO much dramatic tension in this story! lol. I can't stay away from it! Glad you are enjoying it all! Thanks for your review!**

 **MewWinx96: Hi! Thanks again! And yes, you have, and yes, I do too as well! lol!**

 **Gandalf537: I LOVE how expressive your reviews are! Thank you so much!**

 **Smartgirl13579: Thank YOU for your reviews! :)**

 **MerJedi: OMG THANK YOU! Whenever I hear someone has created an account JUST to leave a review, it makes my heart so so full. Truly honored and appreciative of you! Thank you very, very much for your kind words! I used to be intimidated by action scenes, even though they are some of my favorite. Practice definitely helps, and a HUGE help is watching youtube videos. If I am writing a Natasha fight scene, I'll watch a youtube video of a compilation of her fight moves throughout the movies to get a feel for her style, and as practice, I will write out one of those scenes, trying to describe it the best I can as I watch in slow motion.. HUGE HUGE help. Give it a shot! Yes my beta is a massive help also! I adore her. Your comments seriously made my day, and I really, really appreciate it. Much love!**

* * *

 **Guys, I can't even handle how wonderful and kind and supportive you all are. It is why I write. Seriously, huge thanks to all of you who take the time to leave me a note. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter as well!**

 **Coming up:**

 **Chapter Eleven: Sleigh Ride**

 **What? There's not enough action for you guys? Not enough suspense, you say? ;) I will summarize the next chapter in TWO words:**

 **HYDRA RETALIATES**

 **...**

 **Too ominous? :)**


	11. Sleigh Ride

**Chapter Eleven: Sleigh Ride**

 **Peter Parker**

I wake with a start as the car swerves suddenly to the left, the tires squealing slightly.

"Jackass!" curses Happy from the front seat as I blink tiredly, sitting up and rolling my neck, cramped and tight from the position I'd been sleeping in. Happy's jacket slides off of me, falling to the car floor, and I turn to look out the window as he says. "Sorry, kid. People tend to forget how to drive when it snows."

Sure enough, white snowflakes descend in a flurry from the sky, the clouds above a pale gray so light, it nearly matches the ground below. I look out at the snow covered trees beneath the freeway, then turn my head to watch the traffic going in the opposite direction on the other side of us, a car or two swerving slightly on the icy road.

" 'S okay," I murmur, rubbing at my tired eyes and yawning.

Happy has the radio on, something _highly_ unusual, and it is softly playing Christmas music. Frowning, I listen for a brief moment until I recognize the instrumental song the orchestra is jauntily playing. Sleigh Ride.

Huh. I never figured Happy to have so much...Christmas spirit.

"We're about a half hour out, so you can close your eyes and get some more sleep if you want."

I lean back onto the seat. Somehow it still has that new car smell of rich leather even though I'm pretty sure this is the same one Happy's been driving in since before we met.

I wish I hadn't woken up. I'm not ready to face what I did, or think about what I'm going to tell May when I call her. And I _will_ have to call her. Except, I realize with a fresh wave of guilt, I broke her phone. So the only way I will be able to contact her is through Ned.

Maybe if I close my eyes I can fall back asleep fast before the guilt and anxiety _really_ start to kick in.

I let my eyes fall shut with a silent, internal groan, my head leaning back on the top of the cushioned seat, letting out a long breath as I attempt to fall back into oblivion.

The hairs on my arms stand straight up. My eyes fly open, my body leaning forward suddenly as my spider-sense alerts me to the danger. I hear it then, over the sounds of the music swelling to its climax, a shrill, ultrasonic whistling that starts off at near silence, then swells rapidly to a deafening scream.

" _Happy-_!"

My warning comes too late.

I feel the impact, a crash from underneath the car that explodes in a sound like a thunderclap, and then with a surge of billowing flame and and shattered glass, we are flying. The car heaves upward for a brief weightless moment, tilting suddenly to the left, my body lifting off the seat slightly beneath my seatbelt, before the vehicle crashes onto its side and goes skidding across the freeway with a horrendous screech of metal and glass.

The seat belt digs into my neck, my chest, the only thing preventing me from falling down onto the crushed door on the driver's side. It's cinched too tight, pressing into my body at a harsh, painful angle.

My ears are ringing painfully, deafened by the explosion, and I feel the sting of a million tiny cuts across my face, my neck, my hands.

I gasp out a breath, choking on the smoke as my heart rate shoots up to a billion beats per second. Wheezing slightly, my eyes burning and watering from the smoke, I take stock of my body, and despite my rising panic and superficial wounds, I am mostly unharmed.

Happy.

Oh god, _Happy_.

I lift my head, my eyes frantically zeroing in on what I can see of him. The driver's seat obscures most of his body, leaving only the side of his arm and the back of his neck visible, his head lolled towards the left.

He isn't moving.

Oh my god-oh my _god_ -

I fumble with my seatbelt with shaking hands for a panicked moment before I remember that I have super strength and tear the seat belt off me. I fall sideways towards the ground, but my hands shoot up to catch myself on the neck of the front passenger seat.

"Happy!" I choke out hoarsely. Crap, I can barely even hear my own voice through the ringing in my ears, though it's slowly starting to subside.

My shoes are crunching on the shattered glass as I reach for the divider separating the driver from his passenger in the back, and with both hands and a grunt of effort, I tear it off.

"H-happy!" I call again as I lean over the driver's seat to grab at him.

He's bleeding heavily from a cut above his eyebrow, a bruise blossoming across his forehead. My trembling fingers reach for his neck, pressing in to find his pulse. But I am panicking, unable to remember exactly where I should be feeling for it, and then panicking even worse because I can't find it.

Then I notice the rise and fall of his chest just as my fingers find the right spot, and I can feel the steady beat from his heart.

I let out a shaky breath of relief.

There's movement out of the corner of my eye.

I whip my head towards the cracked windshield, where in the distance, five men covered in black body armor and armed to the teeth with heavy assault rifles are moving in formation around the car. I am willing to bet that there are even more where I can't see, lining up to my right, where the floor of the vehicle is.

We're trapped, cornered in the overturned car. Outnumbered and outgunned.

I know without a shadow of a doubt who these men are, why they've attacked us. I know that if I let them reach this car, they will kill Happy and take me.

What do I do? What do I _do_?

I don't have my suit, my web shooters...god, I don't have my _watch_.

That emergency beacon would have had Mr. Stark or one of the others soaring to us in _seconds_.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," is my quiet, panicked mantra as I pat myself down, trying to think. My fingers grab my phone from my sweatshirt pocket, and I grapple with it for a briefly elated moment before I see the shattered screen. The phone is dead.

"Shit," I breathe. I lunge for Happy, mentally apologizing to him as I thrust my hands into the pockets of his suit jacket. I yank out his phone, fear shooting through me at the cracked screen, but I press the icon at the base of the phone, and it lights up.

 _Yes_! I glance up through the windshield, the Hydra agents beginning to advance, their guns aimed at the car. Shit, shit, shit.

I lift the phone up closer to my face, but its locked, waiting for Happy's password or fingerprint. I'm about to lunge for him again when I spy the small silver knob at the center of the top of the phone, an unusual spot for a button that I've never seen on any other cellular device.

And it looks _exactly_ like the emergency beacon on my watch.

Please, _please_ work.

I press down.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then the entire screen begins flashing red before a map pulls up, zooming in on the freeway we are on, a red icon blinking, showing exactly our location and position on the road.

I let out a sigh of relief. It worked. Someone has to be coming.

Looking up, any relief I feel vanishes. Unless they get here in ten seconds, Happy and I are in serious trouble.

Heart in my throat, I'm forced to think fast.

I can't let them kill Happy.

Looking around me, I realize the car had skid almost all the way to the edge of the freeway, the vehicle's small, cracked skylight showing we are just feet away from the cement traffic barrier.

Leaning back against the floor of the car just behind me, bracing my arms on the seat, I begin kicking at the ceiling, tucking my feet in close to my chest and slamming them into the top of the car as hard as I can. With a loud crunch, the roof panel completely disconnects from the rest of the vehicle, clattering onto the road.

I poke my head out of the car, the billows of smoke coming from the other side of the smoldering vehicle obscuring part of the road, but I can see that being so close to the traffic barrier has put us in an ideal position. Well, the most ideal considering the circumstances. The Hydra agents are advancing around the three sides of the overturned car, but can't see me as I clamber out, dizzily bracing myself on the cement half wall before crouching besides Happy.

I tear off his seatbelt, muttering an apology as I grip the man by his armpits, and with a heave, I drag him out of the car. Staying low, I prop his body against the wall, his chin falling to his chest with a groan.

"Okay...okay," I breathe, my hand shaking as it runs through my hair.

Icy snowflakes drift lazily down from the sky, landing in my hair, across my shoulders and arms, sticking briefly to the material before they dissipate.

The ringing in my ears has dulled enough that I can now hear their approaching footsteps, can hear the screams of the bystanders as they exit their cars and race away from the scene.

A wash of fear threatens to cripple me, to paralyze me where I crouch beside Happy. I don't want to be taken again. I can't go back-I _can't_ -

They're almost at the car.

Panting, I become aware of a second pulse in my chest, slower, steadier than my heartbeat. I can feel its icy intention, can feel and understand what it is offering to me.

I could use Venom.

I could let it take over, allow it to cover me in that black suit.

These guys wouldn't stand a chance. Their tranquilizers wouldn't be able to pierce through the suit, and I could take them all out before they laid a single hand on me or Happy. At the very least, it would buy us time until someone came from the compound.

That steady, chilling pulse increases, throbbing insistently.

 _Yes_ , it seems to say. _Yes_.

The contents of that youtube video race across my mind's eye, followed swiftly by my shouted words at May, the way I shattered her phone and slammed Ned into the wall.

And I can't do it.

I _can't_.

I can feel the icy shards of rage as it is denied, and I am terrified of how aware of it I have become, but there's no time to dwell on it. The soldiers are here, and I have to act _now_.

Turning swiftly, I stand, shoving my hands straight up into the air, knowing they will be visible peeking through the smoke over the edge of the overturned car. "I surrender!" I shout hoarsely.

The footsteps halt.

I listen, heart racing at the silence.

"Move around the vehicle. Keep your hands in the air," a loud voice suddenly commands.

"Okay," I reply quickly. "Okay."

I slowly edge towards the front of the car, my feet moving to stand in front of the large sheet of metal that had been the vehicle roof's panel. I can see them now, their black uniforms stark against the white sky, the snow descending upon them.

They aim their weapons at me, and my instincts start to scream at me to move, my spider-sense warning me of the fingers pulling against the triggers of their guns.

I whirl, dropping low and seizing the large sheet of metal near my feet. I spin back, raising it up in front of me just as their guns fire. My teeth clench at the impact as a series of darts slam into my makeshift shield, my eyes widening at the needle tips just barely poking through.

Holy shit, it _worked_.

Still gripping the roof panel in front of me I charge forward, leaping over smoldering wreckage and barrelling into the closest soldiers. They go down with shouts, my shoes slamming into their bodies as they fall beneath my feet. I reach the opposite side of the road and turn to my right just as another volley of tranquilizers are fired into the metal panel.

I lower it slightly to see two men charging towards me, their guns abandoned for thick, metal batons. Stepping back, I brace myself, raising my shield as the first man strikes, the impact of the metal reverberating through my arms as my feet slide back on the icy road.

With a cry, I shove the metal back against him, slamming it into his body, forcing him to move back. But I missed the second man moving around me, and I am forced to drop the roof panel onto the ground as I whirl to face him, my hands shooting up to grab the baton before it connects with my skull. I yank it out of his grip, dodging the swing of his second baton before I drive the metal rod straight into his gut.

My spider-senses send prickles of warning across my skin, and I drop to the ground, feeling the wind ruffling through my hair as I narrowly dodge the first soldier's baton. I roll onto my back as he raises both weapons and drives them down towards my face.

Rolling across the icy pavement, I cringe at the sound of the metal slamming into the hard ground, then flip up onto my feet to seize the man by his body armor and toss him over my shoulder.

Panting wildly, I lunge for the car's roof panel, sure I am about to be hit by another barrage of tranquilizer darts, when something small and round rolls and bounces with a tinkling clatter to land by my feet.

It hits my shoe and cracks open, billows of pale gas shooting out from it with a loud hiss.

Oh _shit_.

I rear back, holding my breath as more marble sized bombs land all around me, a symphony of whisper like sounds emitting from them as they crack open and blast out their smoke. In my haste to get clear of it, I slip on the icy road, landing hard on my hands and knees, gasping involuntarily as I do so.

Immediately, I start hacking and coughing, the drug-laced smoke filling my lungs, burning my throat. The world begins to spin around me, the ground moving in sickly undulations beneath my palms and knees.

No, no, _please_ no!

Not again!

I try to push myself to my feet, but my body has become sluggishly heavy, and I fall back down on all fours, my head lifting to see the Hydra soldiers closing in around me.

My second pulse is racing violently, and I can feel the ice within me shudder, readying itself to act, to take charge of my drugged, failing body.

And this time, I won't have the strength to fight against it.

I don't know if I even care.

A black gloved hand reaches for me, and then is gone suddenly, shouts and screams filling the air as the soldiers rear back, their guns aimed towards the sky. I see a glint of metal wings high above, a struggling black form falling with a scream.

I cough feebly, my arms giving out completely as I collapse onto the icy road, the rough surface digging into my cheek. Everything is spinning. It's getting harder and harder to think, to see, to understand what is happening around me.

Within me, I feel the second pulse slow, quiet down, easing back down into the depths, satisfied that I am no longer in immediate danger.

My burning, heavy eyes try to focus on the black shapes filling the streets, the flash of silver, metallic wings and the figure attached to them, barrelling through the soldiers and sending them flying. I watch as half of them start dropping mysteriously to the ground, absolutely nothing near them at all.

Maybe the world is spinning for them, too.

And then I think that the drugs in the gas I've inhaled have _definitely_ kicked into high gear, because I swear there is the impossibly small figure of a man standing in front of my face, no bigger than a bug.

My eyes roll back in my skull, and just before I slip into unconsciousness, I hear a strange whir of sound, and a steady hand is resting on my back as a familiar voice says. "I got you, kid. Don't worry. I got you."

* * *

 **Helen Cho**

I reach for the handle of the sink, turning the water onto full blast as I place the opening of the small silver teapot beneath the faucet.

Something winds itself between my legs, meowing insistently, and I glance down at the fat gray and black cat pressing up against my shin. "Wait your turn, Bo-mi."

Her large yellow eyes blink slowly up at me, utterly unimpressed with my answer.

I scoot her away with my foot as I shut off the water and move to the stove, setting down the teapot and turning on the heat. Opening the cupboard up to my right, I pull out a white mug and a bag of my favorite tea, placing both onto the counter in preparation.

Bo-mi meows, a long, mournful sound, as if she truly believes she is suffering unjustly.

"Impatient cat," I mutter as I pick up her bowl. Lifting the lid on her canister of cat food, I scoop up the dry bits and set the bowl back down for her. She presses her nose against several piece of food, then looks up at me with no small amount of reproach. "That's all you're getting. You're on a diet, Bo-mi. Doctor's orders."

I walk back into the living room of my apartment to retrieve the Stark tablet I had left on the coffee table.

It wasn't often that I'd been able to return to the apartment that I keep in Manhattan. Especially lately. The late, sleepless nights, the endless scourings of diagrams, lab work, and old Hydra files had consumed my life, forcing me to take advantage of the set of rooms set aside for me in the compound.

Whenever I am gone for long periods of time, Mya, the sweet, red-headed teenager that lives next door, would come over to make sure Bo-mi's litter box was taken care of, that she got the attention and chin scratches she needed, and that she was fed.

Over fed, I think dryly as I look at the cat's wide middle, the creature finally digging into her dinner.

I set a reminder on my tablet to leave Mya some cash and a thank you card when I head back to the compound tomorrow.

Collapsing onto the pale gray sofa, I tuck my legs beside me and rest the tablet on my thighs, tapping my fingers on its edge as I consider what files to pull up and delve through tonight.

Venom consumes my every thought.

From the moment I wake up, to the moment I pass out in the early hours of the morning, I am wracking my brain for solutions, feeling as though the answer to removing it safely from Peter's body is right in front of me.

It had been over two weeks since I'd returned to my apartment, and I'd finally decided to come home tonight in the hopes that a new environment might stimulate some fresh theories.

I pull up the video footage of my most recent experiment with Peter. A swipe of my fingers minimizes the video to a small window on the left side, while a second window containing his vitals and brainwaves opens on the left.

I watch, frowning.

The moment the temperature of the lamp and thermal blanket increases to twenty six degrees celsius, Peter's reaction becomes excessively severe. His pulse skyrockets, his blood pressure shooting to dangerous levels, and the amount of brain activity becoming remarkably unstable.

In the video, the teenager slams his fist into the bulb of the heating lamp, sending the entire thing flying.

Wait a moment.

My eyes could be playing tricks on me. It could just be a trick of the light or a distortion of the video. But I swear I just saw…

A press of my finger pauses the video. Several more swipes rewinds it a few seconds, just before Peter moves. I rewind it again, zooming in and adjusting the clarity, setting the video to play at a fifth of its normal speed.

I lean closer to the tablet, my heart beginning to pound.

There.

I pause the video.

Peter's eyes are entirely black. Not a speck of white is showing. The parasite had taken control in that moment, destroying the equipment that had been causing it pain.

I _had_ been right.

Venom had reacted defensively to the heat. It had affected it like none of my other experiments had, making it feel so threatened, it had surfaced after all this time. This reaffirms my theory, proves that it could be a viable direction to pursue a solution for separating the parasite from Peter's body.

A sharp whistle fills the air, startling me, almost making me drop the tablet onto the floor. Rising to my feet, I set the tablet onto the couch cushion and stride for the kitchen, already spotting the blast of steam coming from the teapot's spout.

I turn off the stove, picking the teapot up by its upper handle and pouring a healthy amount of boiling water into the mug before setting it back down.

I sigh as I place the tea bag into the water.

Now if I can only convince Tony to let me run more tests using heat as my catalyst.

I glance down at the floor. Bo-mi's bowl is only half empty, but the cat is nowhere in sight. Odd. The cat never leaves her food unfinished.

"Bo-mi?" I call softly, making several kissing noises to call her. I step into the living room, my eyes scanning the space for any sign of her.

When my gaze reaches the sofa, I freeze, an icy, horrified chill shuddering down my spine, as my heart thunders in my chest.

The tablet is gone.

Swallowing hard, my eyes darting around the silent apartment, I slowly edge back towards the kitchen counter. Spotting no one, my shaking hands reach underneath it for the holster containing the Glock 26 Natasha had given me.

My gut clenches sharply

The gun isn't there.

Whirling, I race for the front door, my long black hair coming free of the loose knot I had pinned it in, my breath coming in ragged pants.

I'm nearly there, my outstretched hand grazing the doorknob.

Pain explodes in my right temple, the force of the blow sending me careening into the tiled floor. With great effort, I roll onto my back, propping myself up onto my elbows as I drag my body backwards. My sight goes in and out of focus, my skull throbbing with unbearable, dizzying pain as wet warmth slides down the side of my face.

A man clad in black body armor advances on me, the gun that had dealt the blow to my head resting loosely in his gloved hands. All I can see of his face are his eyes; a pale, striking blue, shining with cruel anticipation.

"Hello, doctor," he says, his deep voice muffled by the black mask he wears.

A pained whimper escapes my throat as I hit the wall, unable to back away any further. I'm trapped.

He crouches before me.

"You've been a busy woman, Helen. But I'm afraid we can't have you continuing your valiant efforts to remove the parasite from Mr. Parker. You see, we have big plans for him. For Venom. And I'm sorry to say, you won't be there to see them come into fruition."

My eyes fall to his dark jacket, to the insignia in the corner on his chest.

A skull, with six curling tendrils beneath it.

A gloved hand wraps around my throat as his face leans forward, and he breathes near my ear, "Hail, Hydra."

* * *

 **A/N: So since you guys have been SO great lately with your reviews, and since my teaser for this chapter was SO mean, I decided to treat you by posting this chapter the same day!**

 **Unfortunately, that means another cliffhanger. :D**

 **Special thanks to the beta of all betas, PippinStrange, for her continual support and editing and fangirling! She just wrote a hilarious Deadpool and Spiderman fic y'all should check out ASAP, and of course, her incredible Spiderman/Avengers fic Down Came the Rain, which is too good for words. You are an inspiration and a delight!**

 **Also! Kotonohaku wrote a Venom oneshot inspired by this fic on Archive of Our Own which is chilling and wonderful and gah, just go read it if you haven't yet!**

 **If you'd like to follow me on instagram, check out my page at mscrystalbeard**

* * *

 **10-lanterns-and-a-dreamcatcher: Boo to exams! I wish you the best of luck!**

 **The Revolutionary Winter Quail: Omggggg thank you! It was such a painful one to write! I wish I did know him! lol**

 **Monkeybaby: Thanks!**

 **Guest: Miiiiight be coming up. :)**

 **Trucejoseph: Wow! Thank you so so much!**

 **Kotonohaku: Woooooow! OMG Thank you so much! That is what I love to hear! I'm so glad my writing comes across as immersive as I always hope it is! Your review was INCREDIBLE and I am just so thankful and wow! Blown away, seriously. Those were some incredible compliments, so thank you so much for making my day. I am so glad you worked up the courage to write reviews as well, because they seriously motivate me so so so much, knowing that others care about this story as much as I do.**

 **Detective Rysposito: Eeeeee! Thank you! I love giving people chills! Is that weird? I hope it's not weird. lol. I love the Happy and Peter dynamic as well, and writing it is so much fun. I'm glad you loved it as much as I did! I also enjoy putting it little, unnecessary touches like Happy's jacket getting stuck and giving it to him, without Happy coming out and saying, look I care and I'm worried. :D**

 **Nathissica: Ahhh I love your reviews so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You may get your wish sometime soon... ;)**

 **DiamondGirl140: Thank you very much! I agree, poor Peter! Kid's troubles never cease!**

 **StarStepper: LOL! I didn't leave you hanging very long! ;) But... I also gave you another cliffie. :D**

 **Chibijenn4: Thanks!**

 **WolfsHonor: Thank you! I love hearing that the emotions translate well! Yeah, Civil War definitely seemed to strengthen their relationship, and Bruce was off with Thor for like, ever, lol. So I am very curious if they will address any relationships in Infinity War, or if everyone will be too busy fighting Thanos to worry about who is with who.**

 **Evelris: Ahhh so much tension and suspense! I can't stop writing it! lol! Thank you so so much! I love hearing that I can put people on edge as much as I am when I am writing it. But at least I didn't leave you hanging too long after that teaser! But I didn't exactly leave this one on a good note. lol. Ah well. Can't break the evil writer tendencies. Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **TeamCaptain2016: Glad to hear school is getting better! Thank you for the review!**

 **Gandalf537: Thank you! I try to insert some humorous moments to counterbalance all the angst and suspense. lol! Glad you are enjoying!**

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 **Steelmagnolia247: Eeee yeah that was suuuuper suspenseful...and this wasn't exactly a take it easy kind of chapter either. lol!**

 **Dimensional Phaser: ;)**

 **Sea-urchin-the-ninja: Yay! I am so happy to make your day! Hopefully twice! lol! Sorry you've had a crap day, but I hope two updates in one day helped some!**

 **GinaBoo: THANK YOU! Definitely heart wrenching for sure! So happy you enjoyed it! And yes, definitely a turning point for sure.**

* * *

 **Coming up:**

 **Chapter Twelve: I Wonder as I Wander**

 **Rewinding back a little bit, we follow Tony and Natasha as they pay a visit to Clint Barton home at his farm for some much needed advice.**

 **Hope you lovelies enjoyed the double update!**

 **Much, much love to you wonderful people!**

 **Queen**


	12. I Wonder as I Wander

**Chapter Twelve: I Wonder as I Wander**

 **Tony Stark**

I have to hide a cringe as my three hundred dollar a piece tires roll over the crunchy gravel of Barton's long drive. Natasha is silent beside me as I stop my silver Acura prototype a few feet away from the porch steps leading up the house.

It's picturesque, the quaint little farmhouse and barn nestled against the snow covered hillside, snowflakes drifting lazily from a pale sky, smoke coming from the chimney.

It looks like a freaking Hallmark card.

No, worse, a Thomas Kinkade painting.

It'd be a shame to ruin it by getting my blood all over the snow.

This is a bad idea. Barton wants nothing to do with me, and I doubt he'd have any life changing advice about how to talk to teenagers. Cap's an idiot, why am I listening to him?

I should just put the car in reverse, and head back to the compound.

"Tony?"

"Hmm?"

"Are we going to sit in the car all day, or are you going to grow a pair and go knock on the door?"

Damn it.

I almost forgot she was here.

"I was admiring the view," I reply, shutting off the engine. "Let's get this over with."

She's smirking as we step out of the vehicle, heading up the wooden steps onto the porch. I remind myself that she will probably be the reason I am not slaughtered where I stand, and that wiping the smug look off her face with a well delivered insult would probably be a bad idea.

Bracing myself, I straighten my back and knock briskly on the door.

Then I reach back and pull Romanov by her arm so she stands half in front of me.

"Coming!" calls a muffled woman's voice. There are the sounds of hurried footsteps, then the door swings open, a wave of delicious heat and the appetizing smell of tomatoes and garlic washing over me.

Barton's wife, Laura, I remember quickly, is standing at the threshold with a surprised expression across her face, wearing an apron smeared with red sauce, and a wooden spoon in her hand.

"Oh! Nat! Mr. Stark! What a surprise. We weren't expecting company," her surprise melting away to caution, which she quickly covers with a smile. "Come in, come in. You guys must be freezing."

She steps aside, and being the gentleman that I am, I let Natasha enter first. She steps inside, greeting Laura with a warm smile and a hug as she goes.

"Thank you," I tell her as I cross the threshold into the warm house, and she closes the door behind me.

"So," Laura starts. "Not that you aren't always welcome, but what brings you here?"

"I'm hoping to have a little talk with your husband, nothing serious," I assure her. "Is he home?"

"Yeah, he's upstairs," she eyes me, then Nat. I'm don't possess an inkling of Wanda's witchy powers, but I bet I can tell what she is thinking. She's worried Barton's in some kind of trouble again, that I'm here to stir something up. She's also hoping that Nat is here to intervene on Clint's behalf. Laura opens her mouth to say something when a shrill beeping noise comes from the kitchen.

"Shit. I'm sorry, I'm in the middle of cooking dinner. Clint will be right down, I'm sure," Laura hesitates for a moment, clearly wanting to say more to me, but all she says is, "I need to get that. Excuse me."

"Need any help?" Natasha offers.

Laura snorts, grinning. "Not after last time, no. Make yourselves at home."

"What happened last time?" I ask Romanov as Laura hurries off to the kitchen.

"The stove and I had a...disagreement," she admits.

"So you _do_ have a weakness. Huh. Who knew it would be something as simple as kitchen appliances?"

Natasha's eyes narrow. "And when was the last time _you_ tried to cook anything, Stark?"

"No comment."

I glance around at the living room, my hands firmly in my pockets. It's the definition of a charming, antiquated Christmas in here, complete with roaring fire and large, eclectically decorated tree in the corner. The mantle is dressed with garland and mismatched stockings, and every surface is covered in lights, greenery, or small, fluffy snowmen.

It looks like Santa Claus threw up in here.

Natasha wanders towards the tree, a small smile curving her lips as her fingertips gently brush the obviously homemade ornaments adorning it.

There's a tug on my pants near my ankle.

I frown, looking down as a very fat creature stares up at me, a chubby hand gripping my pants. It's a stare down, both of us unsure of the other, before the round face near my feet breaks out into a smile, revealing a handful of miniscule teeth.

He pulls himself up by the material of my pants, still grinning, a heavy amount of drool sliding down his chin onto my very expensive designer jeans.

"Natasha, I'm under attack."

"It's a baby, Tony. Not an alien."

"There's a difference?"

She rolls her eyes and steps forward, reaching down with both hands. "Come here, you. Come see Auntie Nat," she lifts the toddler into her arms, and his face lights up at the sight of her. He lets out a peal of delighted laughter and presses both chubby hands onto her cheeks. Natasha smiles back at him, her eyes warm and elated, her expression…maternal, I realize.

"Come to recruit my tiny humans for your child army?"

I glance over at the stairs, where Barton is descending, wiping his hands on an already filthy looking rag. His eyes are hard, his mouth a thin line.

"I hate to disappoint you," he continues as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. "But these ones aren't for sale."

"That's a shame. The rotund one salivating all over my jeans has so much potential."

"What do you want?" Clint asks flatly, shoving the dirty rag down into his pocket.

"Can we talk?"

Natasha is cooing, making utterly ridiculous noises behind me, causing the toddler in her arms to erupt into loud, squawking laughter. I turn and give her a dry look. "Do you mind?"

She raises an eyebrow at me in response, and then begins tickling the boy in her arms, who begins screaming and squealing noisily.

I turn back to Barton, who's looking at the pair with a fond expression.

God, there's enough sentiment in this room to be a Lifetime movie.

"Take a walk with me," Clint orders, any trace of affection utterly gone from his face as he stares me down. He takes a moment to pull on a pair of boots and a thick, warm looking jacket.

"Honey," he calls. "I'll be right back."

"Ok. Dinner will be ready in fifteen," she calls back.

I follow Clint out the front door, out of the pleasant warmth and into the frigid air. I close the door behind me, and we both head across the porch, down the stairs, and into the snow.

"Alright, why are you here?"

"Would you believe Steve sent me here to get advice?" I try. His facial expression doesn't change as we walk. "Is that a no, then?"

"You really came here to ask me for _advice_? Advice on what?" Clint asks skeptically.

I let out a heavy sigh. "You're sort of the team's leading expert on...smaller humans."

"Some people just call them children."

"Potato, potahto," I look at him, my head tilting slightly to the side. "How do you do it? How do you get your children to talk to you?"

Barton finally looks back at me, his brow furrowing. "Is this about the kid?"

My face tells him all he needs to know. Clint turns his head, looking towards the approaching tree line beyond the snow covered hills. "How's he doing?"

"Just peachy, that's why I'm here harassing you even though I know you'd like to put your fist through my face."

"Yeah, I really missed your sarcasm."

"Likewise."

We start trudging through the hard packed snow, the glare of it so bright I reach in my jacket's inner pocket to put on my sunglasses. "It's not looking good," I finally admit. "The parasite is getting stronger, starting to take him over. He's...well, I don't think he's handling it very well."

"Would you handle an alien parasite living in your chest and slowly taking over your body _well_?" Clint scoffs.

"Oh I'd handle it terribly," I reply, keeping my voice light. "All things considered, he's actually doing pretty good."

"But he's not talking to anyone about it," Clint surmises as we continue our trek up the snow laden hillside. "And _you_ want to get him to open up?"

"I realize I'm not the ideal candidate here, ok? I know if I tried, I'd probably screw him up even worse than he is now. That's why I'm here."

We reach the top of the hill, stopping to turn and look back at the house, at the smoke from his chimney climbing up into the snowy sky.

"When Cooper was seven," Clint begins, and I turn to look at him. "He started struggling in school. All the stuff he used to excel at? Out of the blue he began failing it all. His tests, his homework...every subject, went from A's to C's in a matter of days. He even started failing P.E.. Who the hell fails at P.E.?"

"So one day," he continues. "I took him up to the top of this hill, sat him down, and asked him about it. He told me that some of the other kids had been picking on him, teasing him for being such a nerd and for getting such good scores on everything. After I got over the urge to hunt down those little bastards and show them what I can do with an arrow, I told Cooper how smart he was, how funny, how amazing. I told him if those other kids couldn't see that, that was on them. I told him that people put others down when they aren't happy with themselves."

Clint thrusts his hands in his pockets. "I also told him exactly how he could kick all their asses with a few well aimed punches if they kept bothering him. Then he went to school the next day, and that was that."

I stare. "So...let me get this straight. I should make the kid sit on a hill, tell him he's good at stuff, then show him a new way to punch someone in the face?"

"No, you idiot. Just talk to him."

"I'm sorry, you lost me."

"You see what we're doing right now?" Barton gestures between us. "We're standing here, and we're talking. Just because the kid is a 'smaller human' as you so eloquently put it, doesn't mean that he's not...well, human. Just talk to him like you would me, or Steve. Preferably without attacking him or locking him up in a floating prison in the middle of the ocean."

Ouch. "Still not over that one, huh?"

Clint gives me a level look. "What do you think?"

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I mean, we all hold some blame for the mess back in Germany. But for not getting you out sooner, for keeping you from this?" I gesture to his home. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks," he replies after a moment, eyeing me strangely.

God, it's like he's never heard me apologize before.

"You know this conversation could have happened over the phone. You didn't have to come all the way out here," Clint says.

"Would you really have picked up the phone? Or resisted the urge to hang up on me mid-sentence?" I ask, knowing the answer already. "Besides, this way you get the honor of my company."

He lets out a derisive snort.

"I see you're putting my money to good use," I nod towards the house.

"Yeah, she's coming along pretty well," Clint replies. "I'm thinking about redoing the barn. I'll send you the bill."

"I'll be waiting eagerly," I hold out my hand. "Thanks. For the advice. It's not bad. You should look into being a counselor, looking closely at people's brains and peering into their deepest, darkest secrets. You'd be good at it."

"I see better from a distance," he takes my hand, smirking.

We both look down in unison as the screen on my watch begins flashing with bright red light.

"What the hell is that?" Clint asks.

"Happy's emergency beacon," I say, my throat suddenly bone dry. "I need to go. _Now_."

* * *

 **A/N: I know, I know, I am awful for giving you guys that cliffhanger and then switching over to Tony and Clint instead of poor Helen and Peter. I'M SORRY! I blame my muse, it is entirely in control here, guys. Think of it as my Venom. It's pure evil and the driving force for everything I do as it slowly takes over my life. XD**

 **ATTENTION: BO-MI LIVES. I know several of you were getting ready to revolt if I had harmed one hair on that cat. And since no one besides Helen knows about Bo-mi and she's sort of...well, you'll find out in the next chapter, the point is, Bo-mi's fate isn't something that will be addressed in the story. So, I'm telling you here, the cat is ok! Mya from next door is taking good care of her, promise! She's the best! ;)**

 **Special thanks as always to my beta, PippinStrange, who is beyond amazing and talented. Go check out both of her Spiderman stories on her author page! You won't regret it.**

 **Also, kotonohaku wrote an incredible oneshot about Venom on Archive of Our Own, so definitely give that a look as well!**

 **I do art in my spare time, and am currently working on a poster for this story. If you'd like to see my work in progress, go follow me on instagram mscrystalbeard**

* * *

 **DiamondGirl140: I KNOW! I'M SO SORRY! lol! I am SO CRUEL. I will try and have the next chapter posted tomorrow!**

 **Guest: Thank you so much! I know, it's not looking good for anyone at this point. :( I do plan on writing more Spiderman fics in the future. Might take a break to do some original work for awhile, but we will see. I have LOTS of ideas!**

 **Trucejoseph: Thank you very much! I wanted Peter to struggle, but he's not ready to give in just yet!**

 **DarylDixon'sLover: I didn't, I promise! No cats were harmed in the writing of this fic. LOL**

 **Monkeybaby: You're quite welcome! :)**

 **Kotonohaku: :D THANKS! I'm so glad you liked it!**

 **Detective Rysposito: You are so welcome! My heart hurt for him too! Kid needs a break. :(**

 **StarStepper: Awwwww thank you! I promise I will never abandon this fic! Definitely seeing it to the end! And what an end it will be ;)**

 **WolfsHonor: I totally agree! I am SO beyond excited and stressed for that movie. lol. May can't come soon enough, and I can't wait to see where they will take all the characters.**

 **GinaBoo: Thank you thank you thank you! Glad you are enjoying the ride, painful as it can be sometimes! lol.**

 **Nathissica: LoL! Not bad at all, I actually considered having Peter break down in that moment or Hydra being more successful than they were, but there are different kinds of troubles just ahead, so I figured I'd give Pete this one. ;) Thank you for your comments about Helen! Your question will be answered very soon :D**

 **Evelris: I don't know how I do it either! THis story is seriously just pouring out of me. I've been thinking about the events of it since I started writing Paint it Black, and this past week or two has given me a lot of free time to write. Thank you for all your reviews!**

 **MewWinx96: Aw thank you for reviewing both! So kind of you! I know, Peter's reactions were very OOC, but Venom is getting stronger, and starting to control the way he reacts to things, much to his dismay and the concern of everyone around him. So glad you enjoyed the last chapter and all its intensity! All your questions there should be answered in the next chapter! Hope you enjoyed this one as wel. :)**

 **10-lanterns-and-a-dreamcatcher: I considered using Flash as the instigator at first, but decided eventually it would be more feels if Peter lashed out against the people he loved instead. Thank you so much for your compliments! Writing and art are my two biggest loves! Hopefully I will finish the Peter/Venom picture soon.**

 **MerJedi: Thank you so very very much! Glad you're sticking through all the suspense! lol! I love when Peter fights back as well!**

 **TeamCaptain2016: Yep! lol! Bo-mi lives! Hope you enjoyed!**

 **Gandalf537: LOL! I LOVED reading that! XD SO glad you are enjoying and staying on the edge of your seat! Thank you so so much!**

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 **Ok guys! I will try and have the next chapter up sometime tomorrow if I can manage it. I don't know if I will be able to complete this story before my vacation on the twentieth, but I am trying very hard to so I don't leave you hanging for over a week without an update. We shall see though! I want the content to be good and not just fast. :)**

 **Coming up:**

 **Chapter Thirteen: It Came Upon a Midnight Clear**

 **Tony rushes back to the compound to face the aftermath of both of Hydra's attacks, and then tries his best to put Clint's advice into practice. Be prepared guys, this chapter hits right in the feels.**

 **Thank you for your continued love and support and putting up with my cruel cliffhangers! Let me know your thoughts!**

 **Queen**


	13. It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

**Chapter Thirteen: It Came Upon a Midnight Clear**

 **Tony Stark**

They're ok. They're both ok.

It doesn't matter how many times I repeat that mantra in my head.

I still feel sick to my stomach.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. had informed me of the freeway attack and rescue while I drove like a complete maniac back to the compound, pushing the Acura to its extremely high limits.

Hydra had finally retaliated.

I'd been wondering when they would. It was inevitable with the way we were knocking out their leadership like bowling pins.

I just hadn't expected _this_ , although in hindsight, I should have. When they had first kidnapped Peter, they'd taken him in broad daylight off the streets. What would have stopped them from blowing up Happy's car and attempting to take the kid right off the freeway, only thirty miles away from the compound?

Darting around the corner in the medical wing, I spot Happy leaning against the wall of the long, narrow hallway. He looks up at my approach, and I wince at the sight of the dark bruise across his forehead, the bandages across his left eyebrow and on part of his hands.

"Hey, boss."

I keep my steps controlled as I near him, my eyes scanning him for any more injuries. "You good?" I ask, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Happy nods. "Yeah, I'm fine. Mild concussion, some stitches. Nothing major."

"You should be sitting down, you moron."

He shakes his head. "I'm fine. Just keeping an eye on the kid," Happy nods towards the room, and my stomach tightens.

"Is he-?"

"He's fine," Happy assures me quickly. "Out like a light because of the drugs he inhaled on the road, and he has a few cuts and bruises, but those should heal fast."

I rub at my jaw, letting out a long, drawn out breath.

He's ok. I can stop worrying, because he's fine.

I can't help myself. I open the door a crack, poking my head into the room, my eyes falling on the unconscious teenager lying in the bed. Happy's right. The kid _is_ ok, and actually looks better off than Happy does. The relief I feel that he is safe in the compound and not back in Hydra's clutches is nearly overwhelming.

That had been way too close.

Frowning, I realize there is someone else in the room. My brows knit together as I look over at Scott, sitting in the chair by the wall, a magazine in his hands. He raises his hand in a short greeting.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask him, keeping my voice low.

"Doc said someone should be here for when he wakes up," Scott whispers loudly. "I said I'd do it."

"Remind me what your name is again? Scout? Scooter?"

He scowls and flips me off as I step out of the room, closing the door softly behind me.

I cover my eyes with my hand, my thumb and pointer fingers pressing into my temples. "Will there ever be a day when that kid _doesn't_ give me a heart attack?"

"Unlikely," Happy replies. "Welcome to parenthood."

I give him a dirty look from beneath my hand. "That's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

"Please tell me Scott and Sam got them all," I drop my hand from my face. "The Hydra agents. There aren't any loose ends we need to take care of, are there?"

"They got them all," Happy confirms. "They're all in custody, getting ready for interrogation on how they found us."

"Thank god."

"There's...something else," Happy continues, his face horribly grim.

My stomach sinks. I don't know how much more bad news I can take.

"It's Helen."

* * *

Jesus Christ.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse.

Hydra had planned a dual attack, their forces spreading to take the kid and kill the doctor in one swift move.

It's a miracle that neither of their attempts had been successful.

I sink further into my chair, my mind swimming with the usual bombardment of negativity: guilt, uncertainty, and of course, inescapable anxiety.

Helen looks small in the hospital bed she's lying in, surrounded by a plethora of monitors and machines. Thick bandages wrap around the top of her head, a wide metal brace around her heavily bruised neck. Her chest rises and falls steadily in time to the soft beeping from one of the monitors in the corner.

"Her head wound's pretty bad, Tony," Rhodey says beside me where he's leaning against the wall. "That combined with the amount of time she was without oxygen...the doctors aren't sure when she will wake up, or what the extent of the damage is."

Severe head trauma, strangulation.

My fingers curl into fists.

"I should have gotten there faster," Rhodey's voice is dark, filled with regret.

"Don't do that to yourself," I say, even as I find creative ways to blame myself for both attacks on Helen and Peter. "You saved her life, buddy. You did good."

"Could have done more," he corrects. "At least I wiped the no-good piece of shit attacking her off the face of the planet."

"I thought he fell off the balcony."

"Oh he did. Fell right into my fist before being tossed through the window."

"Jesus. Remind me not to get on your bad side," I mutter.

"You're always on my bad side."

There's a quiet knock on the frame of the open door. Happy steps halfway into the room, his eyes lighting solemnly on Helen before meeting my eyes. "I just sent the driver."

"Thank you."

"No, thank you," Happy says with a grimace. "I did _not_ want to be the guy stuck in the car with that woman right now."

"You would have been, if you weren't concussed. So, I guess you can thank Hydra."

"Yeah, I'll get right on that. Thank them for this concussion while I'm at it."

"K hang on," Rhodes puts his hands up. "I missed something, here. Who are we talking about?"

"Peter's Aunt Hottie," I answer with a heavy sigh.

"The kid sort of...lost it back at his apartment," Happy tells him in a low voice. He'd told me all this while we were standing in the hall. "I won't go into details, partly because I don't really know any, but it looks like the parasite is starting to take over at this point, and it isn't safe for him or his family for Peter to be out there anymore."

"So we're bringing her here as well. For her protection, and to fill her in on what's going on," I finish with a cringe.

Rhodey's eyes are wide. "Wait, you haven't told her? About any of it?!"

"Keep your voice down," I scold, glancing towards Helen's unconscious form. "No, I didn't. And yes, I realize how stupid and terrible that was of me, no, I'm not looking forward to the showdown that will take place once she gets here, and no, you're not allowed to stick around and watch her tear me to pieces."

"Damn it."

"Your compassion is astounding."

"So is your idiocy. I can't believe you'd-"

"Can we not do this right now?" I move to leave the room. "Thanks, Rhodey, but I don't need a pre-chew-out before the woman even gets here."

Rhodey and Happy follow me out into the hall as a nurse enters Helen's room to check on her.

"Stand at attention, Hogan," Rhodes orders, touching the side of his hand to his forehead in a mock salute. "That's a dead man walking."

Taking a note from Scott Lang, god, I never thought I would do _that_ , I flip him off over my shoulder, and head down the hall.

* * *

 **Peter Parker**

I'm dreaming.

Dreaming of standing on a cement platform, encircled on all sides by metal railing. Thick, jagged frost has crept over the tops and sides of the railing, covering it in sharp, crystalline patterns. Monstrous, craggy mountain peaks rise all around me; blinding, snow drenched, unfeeling giants.

The bitter wind echoes as it weaves through the mountains, a mournful, low keening carried higher, higher, until it dissolves in the clouds.

There's someone watching me.

I turn slowly, just knowing I will see the black, hulking figure standing behind me.

I'm wrong.

Standing at the other end of the platform is _me_.

I shudder, and it isn't from the wind or the terrible cold. My body jerks back a step involuntarily at the sight of him, of me, but he doesn't move when I do. It's not a reflection.

He steps closer to me, and I see that his shining eyes are entirely black. Darkness emerges from his chest, spreading, curling, wrapping itself around him to form a black suit.

I feel my heart thud in my chest as he holds his hand out towards me. Beckoning.

I step back.

He steps closer, the air growing thinner, colder, his offer becoming a demand as his arm stretches out towards me, the black tendrils now covering his face, creating a mask.

A strange sound permeates the air, a steady, shrill beeping that is startlingly out of place.

I watch my other self shiver at the noise, the black suit beginning to writhe across his skin.

The beep grows faster, louder, and I can feel myself slipping away from the dream back to reality. He lunges for me, claws extended, but I am already gone.

* * *

My eyes flash open, a surge of input assaulting my mind, my senses in a blinding, terrified rush. A bright white room, the smell of chemicals, medical equipment looming around me, the rapid, jarring beat of a heart monitor-

The car. The freeway. Happy. _Hydra_.

I surge upright, preparing to leap into action. I won't let them touch me again, won't let them hurt me, won't-

"Peter, hey," I voice says to my right, and my neck cracks, aches from the speed of the movement as I whip my head to the side, hands balling into fists.

"Hey," Scott repeats, slowly standing from his chair, his palms raised towards me and his voice soft, like he's approaching a skittish animal. "You're in the facility. You're safe. We got you in time."

I'm...safe? I'm at the Avengers facility?

I stare, wide-eyed, trying to absorb his words and allow them to penetrate the wall of panic keeping my body locked up.

"Er...Peter?"

"Y-yeah," I manage. "Yeah. I'm-"

I'm freaking the hell out, but my mind is trying to grasp the idea that Hydra hadn't gotten me, that I'm...I'm ok.

 _Happy_.

"Happy! Is he ok? Is he-?"

"Yeah, he's ok," Scott confirms, dropping his hands to his sides and giving me a reassuring smile. "He hit his head, got some bruises, but he's good. Probably wouldn't be if you hadn't of charged those Hydra bastards like you did. You bought us enough time to get there and take the rest of them out before they took you or hurt Hogan."

I finally allow the relief to hit.

And it hits hard.

My breath rushes from me, and I lean forward, putting my head in my hands as the tension in my body begins to dissipate.

"Thank you," I rasp.

"Dude, you don't have to thank me," Scott replies. "We weren't going to let those assholes get you again."

The door opens, and I look up, dropping my hands onto my lap. Mr. Stark is standing there, one hand still on the doorknob as he stops and looks at me with surprise, like he hadn't expected to walk in and see me awake.

"Hey, kid."

"Hey."

Mr. Stark glances at Scott then back to me as he walks into the room and puts his hands in his pockets. "How are you feeling?"

I take stock of myself, noting that the cuts and bruises I'd received from the car wreck are already fading.

"My head hurts, but I'm ok."

"Yeah, that'll be from the drugs," Mr. Stark replies, the brown of his eyes seeming to darken. "You good enough to take a walk?"

I'd rather be anywhere than in this room, so I nod, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "Oh, Happy brought some clothes from your room, if you wanted to change," Scott nods towards the folded pile on the counter. He picks up the magazine from his chair and gives me a smile. "I'll see you later."

When he reaches the door, Mr. Stark stepping aside to let him pass, I call out. "Hey, Scott?"

He pauses, and I swallow thickly.

"I-I know I already said it. But thanks."

"Anytime, Pete."

He leaves, and I glance down at my wrecked P.E. uniform, damp, dirty, torn, and stained with small dots of blood. Yeah, changing would be good. A shower would be even better.

"I'll be outside," Mr. Stark says and closes the door.

I pull the clothes off and slip on the pair of jeans, long sleeved shirt, and sweatshirt Happy had brought for me, and pull back on my converse, still wet and cold, but better than nothing.

I take a deep breath, then another, reassuring myself again that Hydra didn't get me, that I'm safe at the Avengers facility, that I didn't have to resort to using Venom. I'm ok.

I'm ok.

* * *

Mr. Stark hands me a foam cup of steaming coffee when I exit the room, holding another in his own hand for himself. I take it, swallowing uncomfortably from the heat it's putting off, then follow him through the facility.

I give a little wave at Happy as we pass him talking to Mr. Stark's friend, Colonel Rhodes, in one of the common areas, and he nods back, giving me a small smile. I feel guilt like a punch to the gut at the sight of the massive bruise across his forehead.

Mr. Stark leads me to the elevator, which takes us to the top floor of the facility. The doors open, and we step out into the room. I blink at it with some surprise. It's set up like one of those wide open studio apartments without any major walls or dividers in the space.

Everything is sleek, shiny, a mixture of black, white, and grays all set in a modern design. There's anything and everything one could want up here, more specifically, what Mr. Stark could want; a fully stocked kitchen, a massive, curving bar on the far wall, a workstation, which several pieces of his armor are resting atop of, the biggest tv I've ever seen, computers and monitors, black leather couches, and to complete it all, a huge black and white minimalist poster of Ironman above a large, angular fireplace.

"Wow," is all I can say.

"You like it?" he sips at his coffee as he moves further into the room. "You don't think the poster is too much?"

"Uh...no. No, it's great," I assure him, following him as he picks a spot on one of the black leather couches. I sit across from him, perching on the edge of a charcoal gray armchair.

Mr. Stark watches me for a moment, crossing his leg and holding his foam cup in one hand. I squirm uncomfortably, not sure what to say or do. The coffee has cooled in my grip, and now that it is lukewarm, I take a sip of the bitter liquid just for something to do.

"Let's talk, shall we?" Mr. Stark finally offers. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

"I...thought Happy already told you what happened."

"He told me what he knew. I want to hear it from you," Mr. Stark leans forward, putting his cup on the glass coffee table in front of him.

"Er, well...Happy was driving me here, and our car blew up...I-I pulled him out of the car, and there were guys with guns everywhere, so I used Happy's emergency beacon and tried to fight them off," I answer, unsure why he needs me to repeat what he already knows. "Then they drugged me, and that's when Scott and...the guy with the wings, Sam? That's when they showed up, and I passed out."

"Why was Happy taking you to the facility?" Mr. Stark's head tilts slightly.

I stiffen. "I asked him to."

"Why?"

"This...feels a lot like an interrogation. Am I in trouble?" I ask, my grip on the cup tightening slightly.

"No," his brows knit together as he gestures at me, then himself. "We're just talking. I thought. Aren't we? Is this not going well?"

He's asking me?

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

"Good. So why'd you have Happy come get you? Did something happen?" Mr. Stark asks, gesturing for me to continue.

Guilt and shame burn heavily in my stomach, and I have to swallow down the bitter smoke. "I...yeah. Sort of. I-"

I don't know where to start. Don't know how to tell him this. Don't know if I even want to.

Mr. Stark notices my hesitation and frowns, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands together. "Remember when I told you that if you ever needed to talk, that I'd be here for you? That I'd listen? That's what this is. That's all it is. You talking, me listening, then us working together to figure it all out. Ok? Relax."

My insides are all twisted into knots, and I'm sitting so stiffly I feel like one push would knock me over, and I'd shatter all over the floor like shards of glass. Relax? Impossible. Anxiety tightens my throat, numbs my fingertips at the thought of telling him...telling him everything.

What will he think?

I'd already let myself get kidnapped and implanted by an alien parasite when I'm supposed to be a superhero, when I'm supposed to be the one rescuing, not needing to be rescued.

If I tell Mr. Stark the truth about what's happening to me, will he take the suit again? I can picture it; his frown of disapproval, his wary eyes as he tells me I'm too unstable, too dangerous to keep being a hero, to be around anyone else.

A rush of cold seeps through me, like ice water poured over my head.

No. I shouldn't tell him. Shouldn't tell anyone. Should _never_ tell anyone.

But wait a moment...isn't this what I wanted? Hadn't I already decided that if being locked up was what it took to keep everyone safe, then that's what I would do?

Shouldn't Mr. Stark know everything, in case it helps him figure out how to help me?

In case he needs to stop me?  
"It's...it's gotten worse."

"What has?" he asks.

" _Everything_ ," my voice cracks on the word, and I have to set the cup of coffee down before I crush it in my shaking grip.

The words spill from me in an uncontrollable, panicked rush, like I have to purge them from my body like poison before I swallow them back and bottle them up forever.

"I-I'm seeing things. Hearing things. Things that aren't there. I have these _horrible_ dreams; dreams where I'm being tortured, dreams where I become a monster, dreams where I...where I hurt people. People I love. And-and I...I get these...feelings, these urges where I become so, so _angry_. I feel like, like if I don't do something, if I don't _hurt_ something the way I've been hurt, then I'll explode. And I have. I've hurt people. Ned-he found this video...of-of...it's me, and I'm fighting these guys, but it's not me. I mean, I have no memory of it at all. None. I don't remember doing that, and I think I-I think I've been going out at night-or that _it_ has, we have, and I just can't remember, and it doesn't look like me, but I know, I _know_ it's me. And I think I've failed all my finals, _all_ of them, Mr. Stark, and I'm probably going to get kicked out of school, and I completely lost it in gym and ruined MJ's drawings and it gets even _worse_ because...because Aunt May tried to get me to talk about it, she was so worried about me, and I wouldn't-I couldn't, so she tried to call you, and we-I couldn't let her do it, and I broke her phone and _completely_ freaked out and yelled at her, and god, I-I said that she wasn't...that she wasn't...and Ned was there and he tried to stop me from leaving, and I pushed him, Mr. Stark. I shoved him without even hesitating, and when he hit the wall it cracked, and I _hurt_ him…"

I have to take a gasping, ragged breath. Tears are steadily rolling down my cheeks, and I have no recollection of when I started crying. My voice and chin wobble horribly, but I have to continue, I have to get it all out-

"I hurt them, Mr. Stark. I swear, I _swear_ I didn't mean to-I didn't mean to do any of it. And I lost your watch, the one you gave me. I think-I think I ditched it, or _it_ did, and that's why I had to use Happy's phone to get help because I was stupid enough to leave your watch somewhere, and I'm so sorry. I don't know what to do-I didn't know what to do, but I knew I had to call Happy, even though I-it didn't want me to. But I'm not safe, I'm dangerous and I-I don't want to hurt anyone else. I thought I could control it, that I could fight it somehow, but I can't...I can't because I don't know _how_. I can feel it inside me, all the time, can feel what it wants, what it wants me to do, what it wants from me, and I was almost stupid enough to tell it yes when it wanted to take control on the freeway to save me and Happy from Hydra, and I almost gave in because I was so freaking _terrified_. And I'm so, _so_ sorry, Mr. Stark. I'm _sorry_ , and I-I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do anymore."

I'm trembling slightly, my chest and stomach aching strangely, like I'd been feeling sick all day and finally threw up.

Mr. Stark's expression remains unchanged, except for his mouth, which is parted slightly. He blinks. Once. Twice. Three times. He takes a deep breath and releases it.

"Okay," the word comes out slightly strangled. "Okay...that was...that was a lot of information. Give me a minute to just sort of absorb... all of that."

He gestures towards me with his hand moving in a circular motion, then stands, moving behind the couches to start pacing, and one of his hands moves up to cover the bottom half of his face.

I am winded from my confession, and I force myself to start breathing deeply, cringing inwardly at my hitching breaths. I wipe at my face with my sleeve, suddenly unbearably exhausted and wanting nothing more than to curl up under the covers somewhere and pass out and never have to look at anyone again.

"Okay," Mr. Stark says again, pausing his pacing to face me. His mouth opens, then- "...Nope, wait, I'm not ready."

He starts pacing again, running his hand through his hair as his brow furrows and lips curve into a frown. I watch him tiredly, slumped in my chair.

"Alright, I got it," he stops again, resting his hands on the top of the couch and leaning against it. "How long have you been seeing things?"

I stare. It took him that long just to come up with a question? I thought maybe he'd been struggling to try and say something...I don't know, profound?

"Um…I don't know. Four or five days maybe?"

"Before Helen's experiment with heat, not as a result of?"

"...yeah. Before. It started before."

"What _exactly_ are you seeing?"

"I think...I think it's Venom," I admit. "I hear this sound, like crackling ice… and I see all these shadows, and this...this _face…_ "

I have to close my eyes for a moment, swallowing hard as my throat swells and nausea surges in my stomach.

"Jesus Christ," Mr. Stark murmurs, and I open my eyes to see the blood leave his face as he rubs at his jaw. His eyes look up to meet mine. "You said it talks to you?"

"No, not...not talks exactly. More like I can feel what it wants, like I just...I just know what it wants me to do."

"Give me an example."

"Like...like when May was going to call you, to demand what was going on. I didn't want her to do that, but, but it was more like _it_ didn't want her to do that. It didn't want me to call Happy either. It almost-it almost feels like me. Like they are my thoughts, my feelings. But I'm starting to figure out the difference...I think. It...it didn't want me to tell you anything," I admit, and he looks at me sharply. "I mean, I wasn't sure if I wanted to either, exactly, but I _know_ it didn't want me to."

Mr. Stark starts pacing again.

Then stops.

He moves in front of the couch like he's going to sit down on it again, but he remains standing as he points at me. "It wanted you to give it control. When Hydra attacked you, Venom wanted you to let it take you over. You felt it ask you to do that."

He's asking me, but he doesn't make them sound like questions.

I nod, waiting for him to demand to know what the hell I was thinking, almost surrendering to it like that, but he doesn't.

"Has...has Dr. Cho made any progress?" I ask, not daring to hope. "Anything at all?"

Mr. Stark pales again, his mouth forming a grim line.

"Helen Cho was attacked in her apartment at the same time Hydra went after you," he says, and suddenly it feels like the floor is falling beneath my feet. "She's alive, but hurt pretty badly. The doctors aren't sure when she will wake up."

Oh my god. Oh my _god_.

She'd been attacked, by Hydra, because of me. Because she was trying to help me.

"Quit that," Mr. Stark says suddenly, gesturing towards my face. "I know what that look is. This is nowhere near your fault. Helen knew the risks when she agreed to work at the Avengers facility. She knew it could someday make her a target. Hell, it's made her a target in the past. Don't take away from her choice by feeling guilty. Got that?"

"Y-yeah," I say, my voice hoarse with emotion.

"And don't think for a moment that we are giving up. We're _not_. This is a setback. A bad one. But we can still figure out a way to get that thing out of you. We have all the files, all her notes. We have the best scientists in the world working here and in Wakanda trying to come a with a solution. We're going to save you from this. I promise," Mr. Stark says fiercely.

I nod, because I don't think I can speak right this moment. It's hard. It's so hard to feel any hope, not when things have gotten so very bad. Not when they continue to get worse.

My stomach squirms, my throat tightens, and I realize suddenly there are more words I need to say, another secret I have to admit before I lose all my courage.

One more. Just one more confession.

"I almost escaped."

Mr. Stark looks at me sharply.

"When Hydra first-when I was taken to that base...in the mountains...I tried to escape. I made it all the way to the top of the base, straight through the front doors," I swallow thickly, my hands rubbing against each other nervously. "And there was nothing but mountains and snow and ice, and I knew…I knew if I kept going, I probably would have died of exposure. So I stopped. Let them take me."

His stare is heavy as I continue, and I can no longer meet his eyes. .

"Sometimes….sometimes I wish I had kept going. Sometimes, I wonder... i-if I would have been better off-"

"Don't you finish that sentence," Mr. Stark interrupts, his voice angrier than I've ever heard it, angrier than when he told me off about the ferry incident and took my suit. He moves around the coffee table to stand in front of me and jabs his pointer finger into my chest. "Those kind of thoughts-they stop now. _Right_ now. Do you hear me?"

I nod, eyes wide and wet again, startled at the intensity of his reaction.

Mr. Stark's eyes are still blazing as he takes a step back, and my gaze drops to the floor as I swallow hard.

I feel very small. Small and stupid and why had I told him that?

"Hey."

I look up at him.

Mr. Stark lets out a huff, then grips the front of my shirt and pulls me up until I am standing in front of him. Then he awkwardly folds his arms around me, my chin coming to rest on his shoulder as I stiffen.

"This is a hug, kid. We're there. We've reached that point."

A short huff of laughter escapes me, remembering a rather humiliating moment in a car from what seems like ages ago, and I slowly reach up and wrap my arms around him too.

It's by far the most uncomfortable embrace I have ever experienced, but it eases something inside me, makes my eyes wet with something other than shame or fear.

Mr. Stark pats my back heavily, then steps away, conveniently looking towards the window so that I can wipe my face on my sleeve again. Then his hands grip me by my shoulders. "Don't give up on me, kid. I'm not giving up on you, got it?"

"Got it."

He sighs, releasing his grip on me. "Good. Now, we got some work to do, huh? Starting with your aunt."

My stomach seizes. "My-my aunt?"

Mr. Stark's expression is both pitying and resigned. "I should never have lied to her about Hydra taking you. It was a mistake from the start, and I knew it was. But things have gotten even worse now, and we gotta tell her. She deserves to know what's going on, don't you think?"

I feel sick, but I say, "Yeah."

"I've sent a driver to pick her up, bring her here. It's better for her to be here right now anyways, for her safety."

God, the thought of Hydra coming anywhere near May…

"Thank you."

"What did I say about thanking me?" Mr. Stark reminds me. "Look, when she gets here, I'll talk to her first, okay? I'll explain everything she needs to know, and then you should talk to her. Tell her what you told me."

I think I'd honestly rather die.

Telling Mr. Stark had been hard enough. But May?

"Rhodey and Happy are making bets on whether I'll survive the encounter," Mr. Stark says lightly, putting his hands in his pockets. "What do you think?"

Despite myself, my lips curve up slightly. "I'd say the odds are stacked against you, Mr. Stark."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. Also, you should definitely go shower while I'm getting my ass handed to me. Maybe she will hurt me less if you don't look and smell like death."

I snort. "Yeah, you're probably right."

I let him lead me to the elevator, one of his hands clasped on my shoulder.

It returns then, my small, fragile glimmer of hope.

* * *

 **A/N: There! I didn't leave you guys with another cruel cliffhanger! (Although I can tell you there will be more in the future. :D) Am I forgiven? Helen isn't dead, Happy and Peter are ok, and Peter finally opened up to someone! Several of you got your wishes. lol.**

 **Thank you to PippinStrange for your continued support, friendship, and overall wonderfulness. I couldn't do this without you! If you guys need something to read, check out her hilarious Spiderman meets Deadpool fic, or her heart wrenching, insanely well written Down Came the Rain!**

 **Kotonohaku wrote a Venom one shot on Archive of our Own that is to DIE for. Check it out now!**

 **If you'd like to see my art, including a work in progress poster of Peter and Venom done in charcoal, I am on instagram as mscrystalbeard. Come follow me!**

* * *

 **DiamondGirl140: Everyone is ok! Well, moderately. Alive at least. lol. ;)**

 **Kotonohaku: Yes, Tony is a genius, but when it comes to social interaction and relationships, the man is rather dense. lol. Glad you liked Clint and Tony's talk! I really enjoyed writing it. Thanks so much!**

 **DarylDixon'sLover: :)**

 **MewWinx96: Thank you! I also loved baby Nate's "attack" on Tony. lol. Glad you enjoyed and hope you liked Tony's attempt to talk to Peter as well!**

 **Detective Rysposito: I'm sorry! lol! I am a sucker for cliffhangers, even though i hate reading them myself. XD I like Tony and Clint together too. I definitely missed the archer in both of these stories.**

 **Monkeybaby: :)**

 **TeamCaptain2016: Thank you so much! You too! :)**

 **Modern Demigod Hero: It wasn't too bad, right? Good feels? Ish? lol**

 **Nathissica: Thanks! I really wanted to showcase that for her, since we haven't seen a lot of dimensions of her personality as much through these stories. Glad you liked it!**

 **GinaBoo: Yeah, still poor Helen. I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter, and hoped you liked this one as well! I love writing in this verse, and would love to write more fics after this, but maybe after a break to work on some original stuff for awhile. We will see. :)**

 **WolfsHonor: Yeah, I was tempted to have Clint deck Tony like Tony decked Bucky in Paint it Black. XD Didn't work out that way. I also loved writing the scene in the house between Nat and Tony and baby Nate. XD Thanks for your review! :)**

 **Bunyx: Thank you! I'm glad it came through without me having to write "VEnom took over in that moment and made me say it". :D SO glad you are enjoying it!**

 **HazelSparks2778: Glad you are enjoying!**

 **Guest: Lol not at all! Venom will make his appearance before the story is through. ;)**

 **Shivrashi: Thank you! :D I loved writing that!**

 **Guest: YES, I am very evil and will totally admit it. LOL. Thank you so much! I am so glad to hear how much you like it! I pretty much put everyone in danger at that point. Lol. XD**

 **Gandalf537: Thanks! :D Glad you liked it! Hope you enjoyed this as well!**

* * *

 **Alright guys, so here's the thing. I am working WAY more than I thought I was going to, so I don't know how quick the updates will be this week, but at least I didn't leave you on a cliffhanger this time! lol. I don't know that I will finish this before I leave this coming Saturday, but we will see! I CAN tell you that we are TWO CHAPTERS AWAY FROM THE FINALE. TWO. I can't believe it! (Don't worry, there will be more chapters after the big finale as well, and the finale kind of takes place over two chapters anyways.)**

 **Coming up:**

 **Chapter Fourteen: Oh Holy Night**

 **May arrives at the compound. This is the last 'breather' chapter before the final build up chapter, which gets pretty intense, and then the finale, so enjoy this one guys! A lot of conversations that have needed to happen for awhile take place in this one.**

 **OR**

 **The calm before the storm.**

 **Love you guys so much! Thanks to everyone who takes the time to leave me a review. YOU ARE SO APPRECIATED!**

 **Queen**


	14. Oh Holy Night

**Chapter Fourteen: Oh Holy Night**

 **Tony Stark**

I don't know why I have tendencies towards making my life vastly more difficult and complicated than it already is. I'm sure I could pay thousands of dollars to a psychologist, or get another free session from Banner, only to find out that my self destructive impulses derive from my less than stellar relationship with my father. I suppose it doesn't matter where it comes from, only that I have to deal with the consequences now.

I wonder just how much easier things would be if I had told the kid's aunt the truth from the beginning. Would they have been better? Would she have alerted me to Peter's rapid decline before things got this bad? Would he have dealt with things better if his aunt had been involved in this process?

The answer to all these questions is most likely a resounding yes.

I wait, hands in my pockets, in the large, lobby-like space by the front double doors of the facility, watching through the glass panes as one of the many black Audi A8's I own and stock for this compound, pulls up in front of the stairs below.

The driver practically leaps out, rushing to open the back passenger door, but May Parker opens it herself, giving him a stern look as she steps out. Her long brown hair is swept up in a messy, haphazard bun, and she adjusts her olive green jacket over her high waisted mom jeans-huh, how the hell is she pulling those off so well?-before saying something to her driver and gesturing towards the stairs.

He nods frantically, pointing up, and her head swivels until her gaze finds me.

Those pretty eyes narrow at me through those overly large glasses of hers, her mouth a harsh line, her jaw tight, and the fury emanating from her form makes the Hulk seem tame.

Shit.

I did not prepare myself enough for this encounter. I probably should have updated my will. Or used the kid as a human shield against her wrath. Those puppy dog eyes of his are probably his greatest super power. Somehow, I don't think mine will have a similar effect.

May storms up the stairs, the driver leaping back into the car and taking off with a squeal of his tires.

Coward.

I make a mental note to give him a raise.

I stride forward to open the door for her, and she enters, a wash of cold air from outside hitting me as she passes. I let the door fall shut as she turns to face me, and I notice that she is trembling from the force of her emotions. She's pissed, that much is obvious, but her eyes are red rimmed, the lines of her face more prominent from her stress, her worry.

"Where. is. he." May demands.

"He's upstairs, in his set of rooms," I say, nodding somewhere behind her.

She jerks as if she will tear through the entire facility in order to find him, but forces herself to remain still. She speaks slowly, carefully, as if trying to keep herself contained, reeled in. "Mr. Stark-"

"-Tony," I correct.

May glares at me for interrupting her, and repeats my name with no small amount of acidity in her voice. " _Tony,_ then. I honestly don't care right now what I'm supposed to call you. All I care about is what the fu... _effing_ hell is happening to my boy."

"I know. And I'm going to explain everything. I promise. Why don't we sit down?" I offer, gesturing to the gray ottomans behind her. I'd also offer her coffee, if I wasn't worried that at some point during this conversation, she would throw the scalding liquid into my face.

" _No_ , thank you," she replies stiffly, as if it is a monumental effort for her to remain polite. "I'm not moving from this spot until you tell me what the hell is going on."

Before I can reply, she continues, as if the dam burst. She is unable to hold back any longer, like she spent the whole car ride thinking about what she would say to me, and it all comes out in a furious rush.

" _That_ ," May gestures vaguely up towards the rest of the facility. "Is not Peter. That is _not_ the teenager I have been raising for the past eight years. That boy has not been himself since the moment he came back from your-your _adventure_ to save the world. There is something _horribly_ wrong here-and I'm not blind, or stupid, despite what you people might think of me. I may not be an Avenger, or a secret agent, or-or a genius scientist-no, I am _not_ referring to _you_ when I say that- but I know Peter, know him better than any freaking person on this planet. I noticed it the moment he got back, and it's only gotten worse and worse, and he won't talk to me about what's going on. Maybe I'm a terrible parental figure, maybe that's why he won't talk to me anymore, like he used to, maybe that's why he's lashing out. But I am inclined to think, _Tony_ , that this is somehow _your_ doing, that for whatever reason, Peter feels like he can't tell me the truth, so much so, that he was _terrified_ when I tried to call you to demand answers. _Terrified_. Broke the cell phone right out of my effing hand."

May holds up her shaking hand to show me, her nostrils flaring and eyes blazing. "There is something wrong with my boy, and I'm not going to stand here and be spoon fed some bull shit about how he's _fine_ , or that _nothing_ happened while he was gone. _Something_ happened. Something happened to Peter, and I am his guardian, damn it! I should be the first one to know about any of it, about all of it! So you tell me what the fuck is going on here right now, or so help me, I'll-I'll-"

Damn, these Parkers are practically professionals at emotional monologuing.

I blow out my breath, steeling myself, interrupting her before she could come up with a valid threat. My spine is ramrod straight, my shoulders tight with knotted tension. "Three and a half weeks ago, I didn't take Peter halfway around the world on a mission with the Avengers. He was kidnapped off of the streets after school by a terrorist organization called Hydra-I'm sure you've heard of it. They took him to a base in a remote area in Russia, where they drugged him, ran tests on him, and implanted an alien parasite in his chest. My team- _I_ didn't make it in time to stop them from doing any of those things. We got him out, destroyed the base, and brought him home. Our best scientists, the best scientists in the _world_ have been working tirelessly to find a way to safely remove the parasite without killing him, but have so far been unsuccessful. Peter's been declining since his return, the parasite growing stronger inside of his body. On the way here, he and his handler were attacked by Hydra. They attempted to take him again, but our people got there in time. Peter wasn't injured in the attack, and is upstairs showering as we speak."

May's glassy eyes are wide, her lips parted in shock, in horror. She says nothing, just stares at me as she absorbs my words. I don't think she's breathing.

Hmm. Maybe I laid too much on her at once. Maybe I should have broken that up into pieces. That probably would have been more constructive...more tactful. Add that to the growing list of my screw ups.

Before I can blink or make any move to stop her, May Parker's hand connects with the side of my face in a resounding slap. My head jerks to the side from the blow, stinging pain blossoming in my cheek, and when I look back at her, she slaps me again, even harder.

I straighten, my face throbbing, and look at her watery eyes, her tight jaw.

"You mean to tell me, that when I got a call from his handler weeks ago, my boy, _my boy_ was being kidnapped by terrorists?" her voice is low, shaking with her fury, with her incredulous horror.

I nod. "Yes."

"And when I tried to call you, when I tried to call _anyone_ so that I could somehow talk to Peter, to find out what was going on, your people fed me lies while he was-he was being _tortured_ ," her breath hitches on the word. "across the world? _My_ boy?"

I swallow. "Yes."

She slaps me again, and I let her.

"You lied to me."

"Yes."

The tears break from her eyes to roll down her cheeks, and she presses her lips together. "How dare you? How _fucking_ dare you? How could you keep that from me? How could-how could you let me go all this time without-without knowing that-that he-"

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry," May deadpans.

"I am. I know it's not even slightly adequate, that it doesn't even begin to fix anything. But for what it's worth. I am truly sorry. I made a mistake. I know I shouldn't have kept this information from you, that I should have told you from the beginning."

"You're damn right you should have!" she snaps. "How long?"

My brows furrow and she repeats, "How _long_ did those monster have Peter? How long was he there?"

"Five days."

She sways, her knees starting to buckle, and I lurch forward to grip her by her elbows before she collapses. May glares fiercely at me, but allows me to usher her over to the gray ottomans. When she sits, she takes several deep breaths, one of her shaking hands reaching up to grasp her forehead.

"Five days?" she repeats, her voice choked with tears. "They had my baby for five days?"

"Yes," I say grimly, taking a seat across from her. "They'd been monitoring him for a long time, and took him with the intent to study him. Use him as a candidate for one of their experiments."

May makes a low sound in her throat, a pained whimper, then takes another breath to steady herself. "What-" she chokes. "What exactly, did they do to him? I have to know. I need to. Tell me what they did."

"They implanted a symbiotic alien parasite, which they called Venom, into his chest in their attempt to make him a weapon, a soldier," the word spits from my mouth, the fresh sting of anger resurfacing. Damn Ross straight to hell. "When we brought him back here, Helen Cho, the world's leading expert on genetics and cell biology, took him straight into surgery to remove it. She couldn't separate them without killing Peter, but isolated it for a time. She's been performing tests and trials ever since. Unfortunately, it seems like our time has run out."

"What does that mean?" May has gone very, very still. "What does that-is he-is Peter-"

"Not dying," I rush to say, cursing my choice of words. "But the parasite is growing, spreading, trying to..take over, for lack of better words."

"Oh my god," she buries her face in her hands for a moment, and I hear her trying to swallow back her sobs, her panic. "So that's why...all this time...oh, _Peter_."

The woman is doing her best to stifle her building break down, but several sobs escape as she huddles over herself, trying valiantly to regain her composure.

I feel like the devil.

I reach out a hand awkwardly, like I will pat her on her shoulder or knee. It hovers in the air for a moment before I drop it back to my lap. I'm not good at this...at comforting. And I'm also the last person she probably wants comfort from. I'd just told her that the closest thing she had to a son had been kidnapped, tortured, and practically possessed, and it was entirely my fault. Yeah, I wouldn't want to be consoled by me either.

May sits up, wiping at the continual stream of tears running down her face. "All the nightmares, the night terrors he's been having…it's because of this...because of what happened to him. Because of the-the thing inside of him."

"He has some memory lapses, moments where he can't tell whether it's him or Venom in control," I confess to her what I know. I hope that Peter will confide in her like he did me, more than he did with me, but in case he doesn't...she needs to know. "He feels awful for whatever he said to you. Kid was a complete wreck when we brought him in."

Her face twitches, like she's fighting the urge to let it crumple at my words. Steeling herself with another breath, she asks, "You said they-they were attacked on the way here? Is he ok? Is he alright?"

"He's fine," I hurry to assure her. "And yes. Your nephew's quick thinking saved himself and his handler from being harmed or captured again."

And I wasn't going to take any more chances with the safety of anyone connected to Peter, I don't add. I'd sent a suit after the driver picking up May, and it had hovered above them, out of sight, the entire time to ensure that Hydra didn't try to get to the kid through his aunt. I also sent a security detail to Peter's buddy's street, to keep a close eye on him.

May shakes her head as she looks at me with so much raw emotion, that I shift uncomfortably.

" _Why_?" she asks, all that emotion spilled out into a single word. "Why the hell wouldn't you tell me? Why did you keep this from me?"

"I don't have a good answer for that."

"I don't really give a shit. I don't take those kind of cop out explanations from my nephew, and I'm certainly not going to take them from _you_."

Fair enough.

"At the time, all I could think about was rescuing him. I told Happy to make up something believable to tell you, because I couldn't...I couldn't face having to tell you that I...I hadn't protected him. That I failed him. Failed you," I pause as an angry sound escapes her throat, muffled by her closed lips, then rush to continue. "Which was a horrible, horrible mistake."

" _You think_?"

God, this woman is as terrifying as she is attractive.

"I should have been the first person you called. The first person you contacted the moment you knew what happened to Peter."

"I know."

"Then why the hell didn't you?" she snaps.

"Because-"

"Because you were a coward," May finishes for me, and I can see a familiar look in her eyes. She's seizing onto her fury with both hands, because it's easier, it is so much easier to be angry than to fall into panic, into grief. "You are a coward, and you should have told me."

"I know," I say. I feel very thoroughly chastised, and small, a feat no one besides Pepper had ever been able to manage, though Rhodey tries his best. "I can't tell you how badly I regret leaving you in the dark about this. It won't happen again."

"You bet your ass it won't. From here on out, you tell me everything, _everything_ there is to know concerning my boy, or I'll make those aliens that invaded New York years ago seem like _kittens_ in comparison."

God _damn_. Get this woman a job at S.H.I.E.L.D.. She would terrify anyone into spilling their guts out faster than they could speak. My voice doesn't come out as strong as I would like when I say, "Yes, ma'am."

May swallows, clearing her throat and wiping away her tears. "I want to see him."

I stand immediately. "I'll take you to his room."

She rises. "And I'm not going to apologize for slapping you."

"I wouldn't dream of asking you to. I'll be feeling that for awhile. It was very well done and very much deserved."

"Good...and thank you," she says stiffly, then admits. "I've...never slapped anyone like that before."

"Didn't show. I figured you were a professional."

"If you're stuck being a part of my nephew's life, Tony, I might very well become one."

* * *

 **Peter Parker**

I open the door of the bathroom, scrubbing the white towel through my damp hair so I don't drip water all over my shirt, and when I look up into my bedroom, I freeze.

May is sitting on my bed, her face damp with tears, and as I step into the room, she rises. "Hey, kiddo."

I can barely swallow past the lump in my throat as I stare at her with wide, glassy eyes, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

May opens her arms, giving me a watery smile. "Get over here, and hug me already."

The towel drops from my hands, and then my face is buried in her shoulder, my tears spreading across her sweater. She grips me tighter than she ever has before, her arms encircling me like she can protect me from anything that's coming, like she can shield me from what's already happened.

May's tears hit my own shoulder, as one of her trembling hands moves to cup the back of my head.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, my words muffled and practically incoherent.

She hears them anyways, and squeezes me tighter. "Oh kid. What am I going to do with you, huh?"

My eyes squeeze shut. "I-I didn't mean any of it."

"I know," she says gently, pressing a kiss on my shoulder through my shirt. "I know."

* * *

My head aches fiercely, my eyes swollen and raw from the embarrassing amount of crying I've done over the past two days. But my chest is starting to feel almost light, a result, I know, of finally telling May and Mr. Stark the truth.

May and I had talked and cried for hours in my room. I'd told her _almost_ everything, only leaving out the most painful, irrelevant details that would only make her feel even worse. But she'd handled it far better than I expected her to, most likely because of her previous conversation with Mr. Stark.

The only thing she'd been pissed at me about had been lying to her all this time, but I could tell her anger was mostly directed at Mr. Stark.

I should probably check on him, make sure he's ok.

May had fallen asleep in my bed, and glancing over at the clock, I see that it is nearly two o'clock in the morning. I'm exhausted, my head and body incredibly sore and heavy, but I don't want to sleep. I can't.

I don't want to have another nightmare again.

I don't want Venom to resurface while I sleep, not here. Not with May so close to me.

So I silently ease out of the room, padding quietly down the hall to this floor's common area, scattered with tables and couches, a small kitchenette and coffee bar in the corner, a tv and several bookshelves on the far wall.

I spot a few laptop stations and head there, perching myself on a tall stool with a white seat. Flipping up the computer, I scan the apps and options, my eyes lighting on a phone icon in the corner. I tap the touch screen pad below the keyboard, selecting it, and a list of contacts pulls up, as well as a search engine and number keypad in the bottom right corner.

I stare at the numbers on the keypad, drumming the fingers of my left hand on the table's surface and resting my chin in the palm of my right hand.

Just do it, you coward, I scold myself. You handled two heart-to-hearts with May and Mr. Stark. You can do this.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

I type in Ned's number.

The option comes up to face-call him, and I quickly decline, choosing just the regular green phone icon. It's incredibly late, and I have my fingers crossed that Ned won't answer, that he will sleep through my call and I can leave him a message for when he wakes up.

I slip on the shiny white headphones resting next to the computer, adjusting them over my ears, and I listen with bated breath, with pounding heart, to the dial tone.

Please don't answer. _Please_ don't answer.

Ned picks up on the second ring.

"Hello?" his voice is wary, uncertain as to why a strange number is calling him in the middle of the night.

I swallow, heart in my throat. "H-hey," I rasp.

" _Peter_? Is that you?"

"Yeah."

"Dude! I've been texting you for _hours_! Where are you?"

"With Mr. Stark, upstate. Are...are you ok?"

"Yeah man, I'm totally fine. Are _you_ ok?"

"Ned, I slammed you into the wall so hard it _cracked_. There's no way you're fine," I say, my voice thick with skepticism. I press my hand tightly over my eyes, trying in vain to erase those images from my head.

"I mean… I do have a pretty gnarly bruise on my back. But!" Ned hurries on to say. "It really doesn't hurt. I promise. It actually looks pretty cool. I'm kind of hoping it doesn't heal before break gets out so I can use it as an excuse to get out of P.E.."

Guilt slams into me like a sledgehammer. I think I might throw up.

Superheroes didn't use their strength against their friends. They didn't hurt them so badly that they left bruises on their skin. I am a horrible, horrible human being. And Ned...Ned deserves better.

"What's going on with you, Peter?" he asks finally, his voice unsure. "You...you really freaked me out today. Er-yesterday I guess it was. And you terrified your aunt. She was all hysterical and used my phone to call you like a thousand times before she drove me home. All this...it isn't like you. And...as much as I'm glad you called, I think you should probably call your aunt first-"

"-I-we already talked. She's here at the compound with me."

"Whoa, seriously?"

"Yeah. Mr. Stark brought her here after...after everything."

"...good. That's...that's good. Well, I'm glad you're ok, and that she's... _are_ you ok?"

Could someone die from too much guilt? Ned's questions are so hesitant, like he's scared to ask something as simple as 'are you ok?'. And I can't blame him. Every question he's had the past few weeks I have ruthlessly shut down, blocked him out and pushed him away.

"Not really, man," I say after a deep breath. Here goes nothing. " I-you know how I said I went on a top secret mission with the Avengers?" My heart begins pounding heavily against my rib cage.

"Yeah?"

"I lied."

Silence.

"You...what?"

"I lied," I repeat, pressing my palm tighter against my closed eyes. "There was no mission. I was sort of...captured. By Hydra."

" _Hydra_?" Ned screeches."Like _the_ Hydra? Wait, you were _captured_?"

"Ned, I'm assuming you're alone in your apartment if you're shrieking that loud. Please tell me I'm right."

"Yes, I mean, well, everyone's asleep. My parents sleep like the dead. But I'll be quieter. Dude, what-how...what _happened_?"

I blow out a shaky breath, taking a moment to gather up the scraps of my courage. I can do this. Ned is my best friend. I can tell him about this.

"They took me to one of their bases, did some tests...I don't know, I was drugged for most of it," I answer slowly. "The scientists there...they…"

I have to take another breath, my stomach twisting into elaborate knots as my heart races faster. Ned waits silently, letting me gather myself. "They injected me. With some sort of alien parasite that's slowly...sort of... taking over. It's why I've been acting so...different."

God, it sounds ridiculous. It sounds like a terrible, lame, made-up excuse for why I've been such a jerk.

"Dude," Ned breathes. "Are you _serious_?"

"Yeah. It...it really sucks."

Understatement of the year.

"Holy shit.".

"I know."

When he speaks again, his voice is hesitant. "Can't Tony Stark take it out? Or one of the other Avengers?"

"They're working on it. So far...they can't. Not without…"

" _Shit_."

"Yeah."

"So, it's...in you? Right now? Can you feel it? Does it...does it talk to you?"

I don't want to go through this all over again, but I shoved him into the wall so hard he bruised his back, so I am telling Ned whatever the hell he wants to know.

"I can feel it, yes," I drop my hand from my eyes and stare at the computer screen. "It's really, really cold. And sometimes, I can feel it beating in my chest. Like...like a second heart. It doesn't _talk_ to me...exactly."

I struggle to describe it in a way for Ned to understand, since he is so completely out of the loop. "It's like…"

Then it hits me. "I'm Gollum."

"You're...Gollum?"

"Yeah," I reply, then hurry to explain. "It's like, sometimes I'm Gollum, and I'm mean and creepy and crazy and I...I hurt my best friend when he tries to help me. Then sometimes, I'm Smeagol, and I'm...well, I'm still a little crazy. But an endearing crazy. A good intentioned crazy. Am I making any sense at all?"

Ned waits long enough to answer that I am sure I sound like even more of a lunatic than I already am.

"Yeah, it makes total sense."

I let out a sigh of relief.

"But I think you're wrong," Ned continues, and my stomach sinks. Where is he going with this? Wrong about what? About the endearing part?

"You're not Gollum. You're Frodo."

I blink.

"You weren't asked to be given the ring, but you're doing your best to take it to Mount Doom and toss it in the fire. You're a good person...who bad things have happened to, and even though it's getting hard, and the ring is changing the way you act sometimes...you're still good. You're still a hero."

I sit there, completely dumbfounded.

This is probably the nerdiest conversation we have ever had.

And...I think it's also the deepest.

"Which makes me your Sam," Ned adds, his voice rising in excitement. "It's my job to keep you...well, _you_. And to fight off giant spiders and orcs, and to carry you up the mountain when you can't walk anymore, and to stop you from taking the ring for yourself, and... ok, I forgot where I was going with this. There's a point in there, somewhere."

I laugh, my first real one in days.

"And dude," Ned says in all seriousness. "Smeagol couldn't be saved in the end. But Frodo could. He got rid of the ring, with some help, and I just know Tony Stark will come through for you like Gandalf swooping down on the back of a giant freaking eagle."

God, why had I ever thought it would be a good idea _not_ to tell Ned? He has instantly made me feel better, lighter, like another weight has been lifted off of my chest. I don't deserve a best friend like him.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Ned," I say soberly, a lump forming in my throat. "I'm sorry for being such a jerk. For lying to you. And I- I'm sorry for hurting you."

"Dude, you have an alien _inside_ of you. We're good. Just...just get better, ok?"

I seriously don't deserve him.

"Still," I say. "I'm sorry."

"It's _ok_ , man. When are you coming home?"

"Not for...not for awhile. Not until I'm safe," my voice is weary, resigned. "I don't want to hurt anyone else."

"That sucks," Ned replies pityingly. "Text me if you can, ok? Keep me updated."

"I'll try. My phone's sort of broken, but I can use the computers like I'm doing right now."

"Lame about your phone. But that's pretty sick that you're calling me from an Avengers computer right now."

God, I didn't realize how much I've missed my best friend.

"See ya, Mr. Frodo," Ned says with a yawn.

I can't fight the smile that spreads across my face. We are the biggest dorks in the entire world, but right now I don't care.

"See ya, Sam."

The call disconnects, and I slip the headphones off and set them back onto the counter. A yawn escapes me against my will, my aching body begging me to find the nearest couch and pass out. But I don't trust my body. Not anymore.

The room is warm, a cozy temperature that threatens to both lull me to sleep and make me feel nauseous at the same time. I slip off the stool and head straight for the elevator, pushing the button that will take me to the very top of the compound, to the roof access.

When the elevator doors open, I am hit with a blast of frigid, icy air. I let out a breath as something within me relaxes, and I start making my way across the rooftop, planning to lean over the cement ledge and look out over the rest of the compound.

The problem is, there's already somebody there.

I halt, having not seen the man until I was just a few feet away. He doesn't turn, but I know he must have heard me, because he says, "Can't sleep?"

"Er-no," I reply, wondering whether I should go back inside. But I'm already out here, and the wintry breeze is far too enticing. So I stride forward to fold my arms over the cement ledge beside him. "You either?"

"No," Sam Wilson replies, looking out at the snow covered trees surrounding the perimeter of the facility.

He surprises me by admitting, "Sometimes I need to be out in the open, to feel the wind on my face, to know I'm not stuck between four walls."

I wince. Right. He'd been locked up for...months. And I'd helped put him there.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he finally slides his dark brown eyes over at me. "You...do realize it's twenty five degrees out here, don't you?"

I glance down at my t-shirt and sweats. "...yeah. The cold doesn't bother me so much anymore. I should probably be more worried about that-but yeah."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Stark's going to flip his shit if he sees you out here like this, Elsa."

"I know, but-wait. Did you-did you just make a Frozen reference?"

"Five year old niece," he shrugs in explanation. "You'd be surprised by the impressively large database of useless Disney references I have stored up in here." He taps the side of his head.

I snort.

We both stare out at the dark skyline, the tops of the trees barely discernible from the near black sky.

"Thank you," I say. "For...earlier. For saving me. I've been needing a lot of that lately."

Sam shrugs again, like it's no big deal. "We all need saving every now and then, squirt."

I wrinkle my nose. "Squirt? Really?"

"You don't like that one? What about Junior? Pipsqueak? Rugrat? Small-fry? Short stu-"

"-Okay, okay," I hold up my hands in surrender. "Geesh, I get it."

"You sure? I got more. Could even through in some Disney ones for you, if you want," Sam smirks.

"No thanks. I'm good."

Sam stretches his arms and cracks his neck. "I'm freezing my ass off out here. Gonna head back inside. I'd say you got five minutes before Tony's snitch of an A.I. tattles on you. Nice talking to you, Spider-kid."

I roll my eyes as he pushes off from the ledge and heads back for the elevator. "Yeah, you too."

I hear the hiss of the elevator doors as they slide shut, and then I am left alone on the rooftop. Silence falls in Sam's absence, not even the chilly breeze ruffling my hair making a sound. I inhale deeply, savoring the cold, knowing I shouldn't.

Then I still, listening, taking advantage of the quiet around me.

There's nothing. No crackle of ice, no drag of claws against the cement wall, no thundering footsteps.

No second heartbeat.

I put a hand to my chest, frowning in surprise.

I can't...I don't feel it. Besides my obvious preference for the cold, there's no indication of Venom inside me.

Why? What had changed?

A lot, I realize. I'd moved into the compound and done the one thing I know it hadn't wanted me to do. I'd talked about it. Over and over, I had confessed everything to Mr. Stark, to May, even to Ned. I'd told them what happened. I'd told them how I felt.

I'd told them about Venom.

Is this...is this how I fight it?

Confessing my innermost thoughts, lifting that weight off my chest, getting all those secrets out in the open...had that stifled it somehow? Maybe it had been thriving on my struggles, on the way my emotions and nightmares were eating me alive.

Maybe this is how I can beat it, or at least keep it at bay.

A wave of uncertainty washes over me.

Maybe all this has helped. Maybe it will keep helping.

 _If you can feel it, you can fight it._

Or maybe...this is just the calm before the storm.

* * *

 **A/N: Ahhhh SO many conversations that needed to happen. Finally Peter and Tony realized that the truth is the best way to go, and that bottling up all your emotions and struggles only makes things worse. I know from experience, and now Peter does too.**

 **Thank you all for your continued support and reviewing! OVER 200 REVIEWS! WOW! I AM IN AWE AND I LOVE YOU ALL**

 **Special, special thanks to PippinStrange, who takes her job as my beta and biggest fangirl very seriously. I've been working on the finale chapters the past couple days, and she has been a HUGE help. Her intense level of fangirling has made me feel over the moon, and SO excited to share those chapters with you! I can't wait! Also, she's a phenomenal writer and inspiration herself, so check out her work on her author page when you get a chance.**

 **I'm sure you have all read it, but Kotonohaku wrote a really cool one shot about Peter and Venom on Archive of our Own that is definitely worth reading!**

 **If you'd like to see my fan art work in progress for this, or have me send you the link to the trailer PippinStrange made for Paint it Black, follow me on instagram ( mscrystalbeard) and send me a message!**

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 **Chibijenn4: I do too! That hug needed to happen!**

 **TeamCaptain2016: Thanks so much! And me too! These boys needed to get their acts together and just stick with the truth from now on. lol**

 **Smartgirl13579: I am too! Only one more chapter until the finale!**

 **DarylDixon'sLover: Thanks!**

 **Nathissica: Thanks! So glad you loved it! And yes, this moment needed to happen a long time ago! Hope you enjoyed!**

 **Alatariel-Galadriel: LOL! Your review made me grin like an idiot! XD Seriously, it made me so happy to hear! Thank you SO SO SO much! I loved your review.**

 **Monkeybaby: Thank you! Hope you enjoyed!**

 **Detective Rysposito: Thank you! I wish I could hug him too! I loved writing their moment together. It was so fun!**

 **Dimensional Phaser: Amen! ;)**

 **SterStepper: :D**

 **WolfsHonor: Thanks! Hope you liked it!**

 **GinaBoo: Yay! I'm glad it lived up to expectations! I'd been waiting for that moment as well! Hope you enjoyed this confrontation just as much! Thanks so much! I'm also glad to hear that this fic has brought you joy! We are getting towards the end, but don't worry! Eventually I'd love to write more fics for this fandom!**

 **Guest: Thank you! I'm so glad you like my portrayal of Helen! I try to do these characters justice. The hug scene killed me with all the feels! XD I adore their relationship as well. So thank you very very much!**

 **The Striking Storms: Omg welcome to the review squad! lol! I LOVE when silent readers branch out! It's just the best! Thank you so so so much for taking the time to do that! Your words mean a lot to me and I'm so glad you are enjoying! Voted on your poll! Hope you have a fabulous day**

 **MewWinx96: I'm happy you enjoyed it! Yeah Tony and Peter definitely made some questionable choices, so a lot of these conversations needed to happen awhile ago. lol. Hope you liked it!**

 **10-lanterns-and-a-dreamcatcher: Omg, is it wrong that I enjoyed the fact that you were almost in tears? I am evil. So evil. It's just, I get so emotional writing these kind of things as well, so I am so happy that you can relate! Thank you so much for your review!**

 **MaRia.Z.A: Thanks so much for your review! Yeah, all these Avengers have been through a lot, and need to stick together to get through all the terrible stuff that happens to them! But at least they are starting to open up and be honest with each other. It's a start :) Hope you enjoyed!**

* * *

 **Alright people, buckle up. That was several 'breather' chapters in a row after some very suspenseful ones. We got some much needed conversations out of the way, started to settle in for what's coming.**

 **And man oh man, is a storm coming. You and your friends better batten down the hatches..wait, wrong 'verse. Sorry. So I hope you enjoyed the little break from the intensity, because we are ONE, that's right, ONE more chapter away from the finale, and this one is no picnic either. We've reached the final build up, so prepare yourselves! (And when I say finale, I mean the climax of the story that takes place over two chapters before winding down with a couple more. It's not the last one I promise)**

 **Coming up:**

 **Chapter Fifteen: Paint it Black**

 **Peter has one more important conversation with another Avenger, and Tony, using Helen's notes and research, comes up with a game plan to get rid of Venom, and this time, May isn't going to be kept in the dark. Things escalate quickly as we dive into the final build up before the big, show stopping finale.**

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 **Much Love,**

 **Queen**


	15. Paint it Black

**Chapter Fifteen: Paint it Black**

 **Peter Parker**

Dawn peaks over the horizon, casting pinks and oranges over the glittering snow. I blink at it in surprise from my perch on the edge of the roof of the Avengers facility. What the- It's sunrise already? I didn't mean to stay out here all night, and it hadn't felt longer than an hour to me. Then I realize...

I hadn't had a single hallucination, or felt the slightest stir in my chest.

It was just...quiet. Quiet and calm and...

As grateful as I am that Venom has become...somewhat dormant, I can't help but feel wary, unsure why and for how long it will stay that way.

God, I'm so _tired_. My eyelids feel impossibly heavy and swollen,and my limbs don't seem to want to cooperate as much as they should, like there's a disconnect from my brain to my body.

I glance around at the empty rooftop.

Huh. Either F.R.I.D.A.Y. hadn't snitched on me, or Mr. Stark had let me have my space out here alone. Neither seem likely.

Either way, I better get back to my room before May wakes up, or I'll never hear the end of it.

The warmth of the elevator blasts into me when I enter, a sharp contrast to the frigid temperature outside. My body shudders uncomfortably, the hot air from the heater vent blasting straight into the back of my neck, sending prickling sensations across my skin.

I step away, moving towards the doors and away from the vent as I descend, my distaste for the heat a sharp reminder that while Venom has been quiet, it is still very much there.

The elevator stops, the doors slide open, and I freeze, my eyes widening slightly.

"Have a nice night, kid? Get plenty of rest?"

Well, shit. Mr. Stark doesn't look very happy. The heavy sarcasm in his voice isn't a great sign either.

"Er—"

"You realize that if your aunt had woken up and found you missing, it would be _my_ head on a pike by the front doors, don't you?"

"Mr. Stark-"

The elevator doors start to close, and I am half tempted to let them so I can escape to another floor, but Mr. Stark has no such intentions. Without breaking eye contact, he stops one of the doors with one hand and grabs my shirt with the other, pulling me gently from the elevator.

The lighting shifts, and I see a slightly red imprint of something on the side of his face, barely visible, but definitely there. My jaw drops.

"Is that-?"

"Kid, you finish that question, and I'm telling Aunt May you sat out in the snow all night," Mr. Stark warns, turning his face away.

So he did know. And he'd...let me?

My confusion must show on my face, because he sighs, pushing on my back until we are walking side by side down the hall.

"I figured after spilling your guts all day, you'd need some space. And it's not as if the cold can really hurt you at this point," Mr. Stark admits, but adds, "You really should have gotten some shut eye instead. You look like an extra on The Walking Dead."

"Dude," I breathe, insulted. Even though...it's probably true. If I look at all how I feel, then he's probably being generous.

" _Dude_ , I don't hear you denying it," Mr. Stark looks at me pointedly. "Look, you're not the only one who was up all night, but I don't have a grizzly bear of an aunt staying with me that will lose their shit if they find out...Don't tell her I said that."

"What were you up all night for?" I ask curiously.

"What do you think? I was going over all of Helen's notes. We have work to do today, kid. You're going to wish you had slept."

My stomach squirms and lurches. Dr. Cho. "Has she-"

"No, kid," Mr. Stark's voice is soft as we pass the common area where I'd called Ned and stride down the hallway towards my room. "She hasn't."

I nod tightly, a heaviness settling across my shoulders and sinking into my gut. What if she never wakes up? What if Colonel Rhodes had been too late when he rescued her, and she dies from her injuries anyways? If she dies...no matter what Mr. Stark says, it'll be because of me. Because she was trying to help me.

"Hey," Mr. Stark gets my attention, his eyes knowing. "She's bounced back from worse than this."

I frown at him. "Really? You aren't just saying that to make me feel better?"

"I'm really not. So wipe that kicked puppy look off of your face before I open this door, huh? Try to look cheery and well rested. You owe me for this, by the way," Mr. Stark gives me about a half second before the door to my room slides open, and he steps aside. Quietly, he murmurs. "When you two are ready, meet us down at the med lab, ok kid?"

I nod, and he strides off. Knots instantly form in my unsettled stomach, nerves and lack of sleep making me feel a little lightheaded. The last experiment had been so awful. And I can't help but feel like Venom had...gotten more active as a result. I really, _really_ wish my aunt would just stay up here, where it's safe, while I went down to do...whatever it is that Mr. Stark is planning.

But I know there will be no keeping her away. Not now. Probably not ever again.

Taking a breath, I enter the room, where she's still asleep on my bed. Not wanting to wake her quite yet, until I can try to make myself look a little more alive, I creep over to my dresser and blindly pull out a long sleeved shirt and fresh jeans, slipping in the bathroom to put them on.

A glance at the mirror has me wincing. Mr. Stark had been unfortunately accurate with his undead comment. Forcing myself to turn on lukewarm water, I splash my face and scrub at my skin to try and bring back some color. It helps...a little, and then I throw on the clothes I grabbed, tossing the icy ones I'd been wearing into the corner of the bathroom.

Frowning, I look down at the dark shirt's logo spreading across my chest. I let out a short snort of laughter. Obviously this had been Mr. Stark's selection. I can even hear what he'd say in my head. _"If you're going to wear graphic tees, kid, at least make them cool ones."_

I decide to humor him by wearing the Black Sabbath shirt. It's the least I can do after all he's done, all that he is doing to help me. Exiting the bathroom, yawning hugely, I see that May is sitting up, rubbing her eyes and putting her glasses back on her nose.

"Morning," I say.

She lets out a little groan. May has never been a morning person.

Steeling myself, I say, "Mr. Stark wants us down in the medical wing, so he can...er, so we can try something."

Instantly more awake, she replies, "Try something? What does that mean? What kind of something?"

"I'm...honestly not sure," I admit. "Maybe they have a few theories on...you know."

May stands. "Ok. Um...ok. Just, give me a second to make myself look like I didn't just roll out of bed."

"I'll go get you a coffee," I offer helpfully.

"Coffee would be marvelous. Thanks, kiddo."

May stumbles into the bathroom, and I trudge back down the hall towards the coffee bar in the common area. My shoes drag against the tile floor, and I can't fight back another yawn as I scrub at my face again. Maybe I _should_ have tried to sleep, nightmare or no. The only part of me that isn't weighed down with exhaustion is my stomach, which is tense and wide awake with nerves.

What if Mr. Stark tries another of Dr. Cho's experiments, and it goes even worse than last time? What if Venom feels threatened just _being_ in the medical wing and decides it's done being...dormant or quiet or whatever the hell it's doing? What if...what if I hurt someone? What if it _makes_ me hurt someone? What if that someone is May?

I wait for my anxiety to trigger a stirring in my chest, a second heartbeat pulsing besides mine, or the cracking sounds of my hallucinations.

But there's nothing.

Instead of reassuring me, the silence inside fills me with foreboding.

My hand reaches up to rub at my chest, a habit now, even though I can't feel pulse of cold or pain. The cold is a constant now, something I hardly even notice.

I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts, I almost don't notice there's someone else in the living space when I pass under the archway. My footsteps falter, and I blink in surprise at the redheaded woman in a dark jacket standing in front of the coffee bar, pouring the dark drink into a silver handled mug.

"I won't bite," she calls softly in her low voice, setting the coffee pot down and adding sugar to her drink.

The Black freaking Widow. This isn't the first time we've met, but I don't really count the time in Germany when we'd fought on the same side and hadn't spoken, or the few minutes in the quinjet during my rescue, when we again, hadn't said a word to each other. At least, not that I can remember.

Scratching the back of my head awkwardly, I hesitantly walk over to stand beside her at the coffee bar. She eyes me sideways as she stirs her coffee, her other hand lifting up the coffee pot with a raised eyebrow.

I stare before I realize what she's offering. "Oh!" I say, lunging for the stack of foam cups and knocking over a container of tiny red straws as I do so. My ears are turning red, I can feel it, as I hold out the cup with one hand and try to scoop up the scattered straws with the other.

Her lips are curved slightly as she pours the coffee into my cup and sets the pot back down.

"Thanks," I mutter, wishing I was dead.

"Sugar?" she offers.

"Uh, yes. Please...Black Widow, er, ma'am."

Her lips quirk up even further in amusement. "Natasha," she corrects as she adds two scoops of sugar to May's coffee, and hands me a spoon to stir it.

"Thanks...Natasha."

First name basis with _Black Widow_. Ned is going to _die_ when he finds out.

I fumble with a container of half and half, and I can feel her sharp eyes watching me as she sips at her coffee. I have a million questions I've always wanted to ask her, and I can feel them waiting impatiently on my tongue, but my sense of self preservation is keeping them at bay, something it's usually not capable of doing. There _is_ something, I realize, that I do want to say to her.

Stirring May's coffee, I look up at Natasha, trying not to be stunned by how pretty her light green eyes are, or paralyzed by the awed fear that I probably can't even fathom what she could do to me if provoked.

"I-uh...never thanked you. For helping Mr. Stark rescue me, back in Russia," I stammer, feeling like an idiot, but needing to say it all the same.

"You'll never have to," Natasha assures me steadily. "We look out for each other. It's kind of what we do."

"Right," I say, scratching the back of my head again. "Still though...thank you."

She nods, taking another sip as she looks me over, and I'm sort of grateful I'm not wearing a science pun shirt. "Shouldn't you be in the med lab?"

My stomach gives a jolt at the reminder. "I...yeah. Just getting some coffee for my aunt."

"You look like you could use some yourself," Natasha comments.

"I'm good," I reply with a nervous smile. "I'm usually not allowed this close to anything caffeinated."

Why did I tell her that?

Natasha lifts up her mug with a small smile. "Good luck down there," she says, and turns away, her boots clicking on the floor.

I watch her go, my momentary distraction slipping away, and my anxiety and exhaustion returning in full force. My mind begins to race, and thoughts I'd never allowed to come to the surface start to trickle in, no doubt brought on by my rising apprehension about what might happen today.

"Natasha?" I call after her before I can lose my nerve.

She stops, looking back at me over her shoulder, one hand on the railing of the stairs leading to the lower floor.

God, it feels so incredibly wrong to be addressing one of the most dangerous people in the world so casually.

"I-I wanted to ask you something, before you go," my voice comes out strained and wavering, and I clear my throat in an attempt to sound normal.

My heart is racing in my chest at what I am about to do, at what I am about to ask her. It's holding May's steaming coffee in my hand that strengthens my resolve and pushes me on. I take a few steps forward, and Natasha watches me, her face carefully smooth as she waits, but I swear there is something like curiosity in her gleaming eyes as she turns to face me, keeping one hand on the railing, the other still holding her mug.

"You have my attention," Natasha says, her voice like a rumbling purr. I get the sudden image of a tiny gazelle stopping a lioness and asking it politely for a moment of its time. Oh god. I don't know if anyone would want the full attention of the Black Widow, but here we are, and there it is.

I swallow, shoving down my nerves.

"Okay," I take a breath, adjusting my grip on the foam cup so that I don't squeeze it too hard. "Look...uh...I know that, I know that we don't know each other. Like, at all. And I also realize that what I'm about to ask is...it's a lot. But...as someone...impartial, I guess? I have a huge favor to ask of you...and Mr. Stark can't know about it. No one can."

Holy shit, my heart is going to crack my ribs it is pounding so hard. I can't believe I am about to ask her this.

Natasha's eyes narrow, the curiosity turning into something else, something wary and assessing.

I don't think I can do this.

The heat radiating through the foam cup is a sharp reminder of May's presence here in the compound, and I straighten my spine, steel myself against my fear. I have to do this. I have to ask this. For May's sake.

"There's no way I can ask Mr. Stark what I'm about to ask you. He'd probably throttle me for even thinking about it. But...if I'm not wrong, and I really hope I'm not, I think I can ask you."

My hands begin to shake, and I watch as her gaze shoots to them, then back up to my face, not missing a damn thing. My throat tightens. "I don't," I have to clear my throat before I can continue. "I don't want to hurt anyone. And I've already proven that I'm capable of it...that I'll be capable of a lot worse if-if they can't…"

Just suck it up, and do it.

I meet her eyes. "Look, if something goes wrong today, or tomorrow, or even next week, and they can't fix me….if Venom takes over, and I'm-I'm going to hurt people, or _worse…_ and there's no saving me...I don't think Mr. Stark will be able to…" I take a deep breath and finish. "If things get that bad, and the others won't stop trying to save me, even though I can't be saved...I want to ask you, if _you_ can stop me. If you can make sure I can't hurt anyone else."

My chest aches from the force of my beating heart.

"You're asking me to put a bullet in your brain," Natasha says, her voice void of inflection, her intense gaze boring into me.

"If-if it comes to that...yes. I-I don't think anyone else will be able to. I think they'll be too...compromised by their guilt to do the right thing. And I'm sort of hoping you won't be. Compromised I mean," I swallow thickly again, praying that I'm not wrong about this, that she won't go running to Mr. Stark.

Because I need this. I didn't know how desperately I needed it until the words were out in the open, but I need to have this assurance, that if things get too bad, if Mr. Stark is wrong, and Venom can't be stopped, that someone will stop me. I need this lifeline. I need to know that May, that Ned, that the rest of the Avengers will be protected from me if I turn into a monster.

"You realize you're asking me to go behind the backs of everyone else, behind _Tony's_ back, to murder a minor," Natasha levels a look at me, and my stomach sinks. "And not just any minor, but the kid that Tony Stark has personally placed under his unstable, highly questionable wing. Do you have any idea what it would do to them? What murdering a kid might do to me?"

I lift my chin even though inside I am quailing beneath her gaze, her words. "Do _you_ have any idea what I could do if Venom takes full control? What it-what _I_ will be capable of? It might be the only solution."

"I don't believe in only solutions. There are always other options. Other ways out."

I feel sick as I watch my only backup plan, my only assurance slip out of my fingers.

"You really want to die that badly, kid?" Natasha asks, her voice quiet, but not gentle.

Oddly, I feel a spark of anger. "Of course I don't _want_ to! I want to live through this and go back to my weird, nerdy life and play video games with Ned. I want to ask out the girl I like and graduate high school. I want to be Spiderman and save people, to make a difference. But I'd rather face a bullet from your gun than turn into that...that _thing_. Because I _know_ what it will do if it wins. And believe me, death is preferable."

Her expression is hard, unchanging, and I blow out a breath, my shoulders slumping with the weight of my bitter disappointment. "Forget it," I mutter, turning away. "Forget I said anything. I- this was stupid. I shouldn't have-sorry."

I wish I hadn't said anything. Now she will tell Mr. Stark and it will be one more thing for him to yell at me about. And if May gets wind of the fact that I asked the Black Widow to kill me, she'll-

"Kid."

I pause, turning slowly, reluctantly meeting Natasha's eyes. I nearly step back from the fierceness, the intensity in them.

"You haven't known Tony as long as I have. If anyone can figure this mess out, it's him. Trust him," Natasha says, then steels herself and lets out a sigh. "But if it comes to it, I'll help you. I promise."

The rush of relief, of gratitude is so overwhelming, my eyes nearly begin to burn. "Thank you," I manage.

"But kid?"

"Yeah?"

"It won't come to it."

* * *

 **Tony Stark**

This kid is always surprising me.

Coming into the med lab, I expect him to look anxious, sick, maybe even terrified. I wouldn't blame him. He hasn't exactly gotten the spa treatment here the last few weeks.

But when Peter enters the control room, his aunt close behind him, while he looks nervous, he also has an air of...calm, of self assuredness that I hadn't expected to see.

Damn. Maybe I am getting better at this. Maybe my talk with him, and the kid finally opening up to his aunt about everything, did some good. I'll have to send Barton a bonus on his next check. Or a note that simply says "You were right". He'd probably like it even more than money for renovations. He'd also probably frame it in his office.

May's eyes narrow as they meet mine, one of her hands curled protectively on Peter's shoulder.

"She still looks a little pissed at you there, Tones," Rhodey murmurs. "How's your face?"

I turn slowly, giving Rhodey a dirty look. "I am already regretting asking you here for this."

"I wouldn't miss this for the world. I'm hoping whatever you try gets you slapped again so I can record it this time," Rhodes mutters smugly, and I can tell that this is his twisted attempt to get me to relax.

Happy huffs, rolling his eyes. " _You're_ the one who's going to get slapped if she hears you, Colonel."

I fight the urge to sigh. I definitely should have asked Sam and Natasha to be here instead of these clowns. Natasha had posted herself in Helen's room, wanting to keep an eye on the scientist, to be there for her, just in case. I don't even know where in the compound Scott and Sam wandered off to.

My legion of minions are all set up in the lab, each person selected for every precautionary measure I could come up with. Several of Helen's assistants, who'd been working with her on this since Peter's return from the Hydra base, line the monitors and controls. Rhodey is my muscle, to help me contain the kid should he lash out like he did in the last experiment, and Happy is in charge of evacuating May Parker to safety, if it comes to that.

Please Lord let it not come to that.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," the kid heaves a breath as they stop in front of me.

"Hey, kid. Ready for this?"

"Ready as I'll ever be...er-ready for what, exactly?" he asks, his wavering voice betraying his nerves.

I clap a hand on his free shoulder, resisting the urge to step back when May's hand tightens on her nephew, and her lips press together, worried or still angry with me, or both.

"I've been going through Helen's research with her assistants," I reply, ignoring the way my stomach clenches and Peter's face falls at her name. "And as much as it sucked last time, as much as I hate to do anything remotely similar again, it looks like she was onto something."

Peter stiffens. "You mean the heat."

"I mean the heat," I nod. "I know it didn't end well, but I-"

"Let's do it."

I blink at him, not used to being interrupted like that by him, and surprised by his overly eager acceptance. The truth is, I'm not even comfortable with this plan. Putting the kid through that much pain is not at the top of my list of things to try. But after everything that had happened, after my discussion with Peter, I know that my options are severely limited, as is my time. Helen had been right from the start, and I should have trusted her then.

I have no choice but to trust her now.

"Hold on just a minute," May gives Peter a sharp look before looking back to me. "I want to know exactly what you will be doing to him before we say yes to anything."

She glares at me like it is my fault the kid jumped on board so quickly.

I step back, raising up my hands, trying to ignore the way Rhodey is smirking at me. "Look, Peter's body temperature has dropped significantly. The parasite is obviously a big fan of the cold, so Helen theorized that heat could be the catalyst that would force Venom to loosen its grip enough to be removed."

Stepping to the side, I motion through the glass barrier to the other side, to the full body scanner Helen had designed and upgraded with my assistance and Banner's.

"Last time we tried monitoring the effects of heat on Peter's body using a more rudimentary monitoring system. Venom reacted...more severely than we anticipated," I admit, watching as Peter's body tenses slightly, his eyes flicking to his aunt. "But it reacted."

Rhodes hold up the tablet he'd recovered at Helen's apartment, the screen cracked, but the technology otherwise unharmed. "It looks like she'd been working on it right before the attack. She seems sure that heat would be the key."

"So," I meet Peter's eyes, my words meant mostly for him. "We want to try it again. I've rigged the scanner to be able to apply the heat itself at the same time it's scanning and monitoring your entire body. We will see the scans here, should be able to see exactly where and how much Venom has spread, and how it moves in reaction to the increased temperatures. We might be able to isolate it enough, force it to detach from any major organs or nerves to surgically remove it."

The blood is completely gone from the kid's already pale face, but his jaw his set, his eyes determined.

"It might take more than one session. In fact, I'm fairly certain it will," I warn. "And if it's working...Venom isn't going to make this pleasant."

"I don't care," Peter says squarely. "I want to try it."

"Peter, are you sure?" May takes her nephew by the shoulders and meets his eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I have to get it out," he says earnestly. "Whatever it takes. I'm in."

"We'll be right here the whole time," I assure both of them. "We'll be monitoring everything, and we can stop at any time, get you out. You just say the word, and we're done."

Peter nods, but I can read his thoughts all over his face. He'd let us kill him before telling us to stop.

I have no idea where he got this noble, self-sacrificing stint from, but I'm leaning towards blaming Cap's influence.

It does give us another warning sign though. If Peter is begging us to turn it off, we know it won't be him reacting to the heat, it will be Venom. God, I really hope it doesn't get to that point, but I have to prepare myself, steel myself against it. There's nothing I can say that will prepare his aunt for it, though.

One of the assistants raises from her chair, gently placing her hand on Peter's back to guide him out of the med lab's control room and into the room with the scanner. He gives his aunt a reassuring smile over his shoulder, and May calls after him. "It'll be okay. I'll be right here."

The door closes behind him, and we watch the pair enter the other side, the air suddenly thick and heavy as the realization hits all of us. We're really going to do this.

"Can he see us?" May asks tightly from beside me. "Hear us?"

"No. If you want to talk to him, you hold that button there," I gesture to a small silver knob on the control console. "But he can't see us."

"Thank god," May's voice hitches as she slumps down in a vacant chair, a shaking hand moving to cover her mouth.

"He's a strong kid," Happy says as he and Rhodey move closer to the glass barrier above the console and monitors.

"I know," she replies, her eyes fixed on her nephew as he stiffly lies back onto the table, his hands curled into fists at his side.

I lean over to press the button I'd just shown May. "Hey, kid?"

Peter lifts his head up slightly, looking at the glass, his eyes unsure where to focus since he can't see us.

"Nice shirt," I say.

His lips curve up against his will, and he rolls his eyes good naturedly before laying his head back down.

"You good?"

He gives me a thumbs up, and I watch his chest heave as he blows out a long breath.

The assistant reaches up, pressing several buttons on the machine. The table the kid is lying on begins sliding slowly back into the narrow tube, and the assistant leaves to return to the control room.

"Should someone be in there with him?' Rhodes murmurs from my left.

"Can't. It'll mess with the scans. Just be ready to move if things go south," I reply, and May looks up at me sharply. "Which it won't. Just being overly cautious."

"Okay kid," I say, finger on the speaker. "Firing it up now. It'll start just like normal, and we'll give you a heads up when it's time to turn on the heat."

"O-ok," Peter replies tightly, his voice echoing in the narrow tube.

The scanner lights up and begins clicking, the green light sweeping down over his body as the machine sends the images to our computers. May's back on her feet now, as close as she can get to the glass, her worried eyes scanning him for any sign of distress.

The kid barely shows any, less than he normally does in that thing. I know it has to be because his aunt is watching.

"Mr. Stark," one of the assistant calls, and I move to look over their shoulder at the screen, where the body scans are slowly coming in. So far everything looks...normal. I frown. That can't be right.

"Where's the thermal scan?"

"Coming in, now, sir."

When it appears on the monitor, my heart beat falters, and a chill descends down my spine.

Jesus _Christ_.

An average person's thermal scan would show largely yellow, red, and green areas, the red being the highest concentration of heat usually located in the chest, sometimes the face. But there's no red in Peter's scan, and only slivers of yellow and green. The deep blues and purples of the multi-colored scan swarm the kids body, invading his chest, his limbs, and worst of all, burrowed deep inside his brain.

Venom had spread _everywhere_.

Even the assistants look aghast.

"Holy shit," mutters Rhodey, and May looks like she might pass out.

"Here goes nothing," I murmur, straightening and moving back to the speaker. "Ok kid, we're going to start the trial. What we'll do is start the heat at a low temperature towards the top of your body, and increase it as much as you can stand, then start moving it down," I pause, hating myself for what I'm about to say. "I'm going to need you to hold as still as you possibly can. Try not to move in there."

"Okay," Peter replies tightly, clearly bracing himself.

May moves past me to press the speaker button. "The moment it gets too much, you just say the word, Peter. We're right here."

"I know."

She steps back, her face pale as she nods at me. "Get this over with."

* * *

 **Peter Parker**

Deep, steady breaths.

I can do this.

I keep my face as blank as possible for May's sake, wishing she was anywhere but here. My heart rate is already spiking in anticipation of what is to come.

The white lights hovering inches above my face begin to turn red. Glancing down towards my feet, I see that the majority of the rest of the lights are still a glaring white.

Heat swells in a matter of seconds, like the rays of the sun are warming my upturned face. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to imagine I am on a tropical beach somewhere, laying out on the sand, enjoying the warmth.

My skin already feels too tight, uncomfortable against the heat, and beads of sweat are forming on my forehead.

"How you doing kid?"

"Fine," I manage, trying not to move my mouth as much as possible.

"We're gonna turn it up a bit, ok?"

Deep, steady breaths.

Maybe Mr. Stark only increases it by a few degrees, but it has already gone from uncomfortable, to unbearable. My tolerance for any kind of warmth has all but dissipated, and the heat burns like acid across my skin, searing through my closed eyelids.

My head begins throbbing in response, feeling like it is swelling and being constricted all at the same moment. The pain grows, making my stomach squirm with nausea and instinctual panic.

I can't hide the wince at a particularly savage stab of agony straight through my eyes into my brain.

"Peter?"

"'M fine."

I'm not fine. I'm not.

I need to get _out_ of here, and I need to get out of here _now_.

It's too much. I knew it would be. Mr. Stark is wrong, this won't work, it won't, and I have to get out-

 _No_. No.

This _will_ work. It has to work, and I have to stay.

The heat increases.

My breathing turns ragged, my mouth parting as I try to get in more air, my throat closing up from the horrible, burning light blasting into me. God, it _hurts_. The heat is...is wrong. It's unnatural and unwanted and excruciating.

A pained noise escapes my throat, despite my attempts to suppress it.

Turn it off. The words are right on my tongue, waiting for me to speak them. Turn it off, turn it off, _turn it off_!

I clamp my lips together hard, my teeth clenching.

"Kid?"

"He's in pain! Shut it down! "

I jolt at May's voice, tensing up my muscles again to keep myself still as the heat, the pain swells, making it hard to think, to breathe-

Turn it off-turn it off-turn it off-

"No! Don't-stop-" I say as loudly as I can manage through my clenched teeth, followed by a loud groan of pain as agony bursts beneath my eyelids.

The heat- it's too much-god, so much _pain-_

"Hang in there, kid, just hang on for me," Mr. Stark's voice is strained with intensity.

My body is shaking violently, and I lock my limbs together to keep myself from convulsing. Keep still-keep still-

"Gah!" my ears ring from the force of what feels like my head exploding.

TURNITOFFTURNITOFFTURNITOFF

The agony swells in a violent surge, and suddenly it stops, and I am free falling into darkness.

I don't know how long I'm out for, but it can't be more than a few minutes, because there are hands on me, voices all around.

"Pr!"

"Ptr!"

"Kd!"

"Peter, honey?!"

I pry my eyelids open, blinking as my eyes try to focus on the faces hovering over me. Cool hands press against my cheek, my forehead, and I groan softly at the horrible ache in my skull, in my body. God, that hurt like hell.

"Peter! Talk to me, baby."

Letting my eyes fall shut again, I murmur, "Dd-did it-work?"

 _Please_ say it worked, that it did _something_.

Mr. Stark lets out a sigh, and I can hear the relief in his tone. "I think so, kid."

I force my eyes open again, my heart leaping enough that I can block out some of the pain. "R-really?"

Mr. Stark gives me a tight smile. "Yeah, kid. The heat forced the parasite to release some of the hold on your brain, forced it to retreat. A few more sessions like this, and that son-of-a-bitch will be toast. We have a ways to go, but it's a start."

I give him a shaky grin. It had been awful, but I would go through a million sessions just like it if it meant getting rid of Venom.

"When...cn we...start?"

Happy snorts. "Easy, turbo. You need to recover from this one first."

"Let's get you into bed, and you can sleep that no doubt killer headache off, yeah?"

I nod, then immediately regret it, my breath hitching at the stab of pain in my skull.

Mr. Stark moves to one side of me, and Colonel Rhodes takes the other, both lifting my arms over their shoulders as they pull me to my feet, and we shuffle out of the room. I have to squeeze my eyes shut again, wincing at the movement.

"When this is over, kid," Mr. Stark grunts beside me. "I'm taking you to the biggest all-you-can-eat buffet in New York, and we aren't leaving until you've eaten everything."

Colonel Rhodes snorts. "What? You aren't gonna take him to Chuck-E-Cheese?"

They start easing me down into a bed, and I realize blearily that there's no way we made it all the way to my room, which means we are in one of the medical rooms nearby.

"Chuck-E-Cheese...is gross," I manage as one of them lifts my legs up onto the bed. "But I bet you...five dollars...I can kick _both_ your asses...at ske ball."

Mr. Stark lets out a short laugh. "I'm not dumb enough to take that bet, kid, but nice try."

"What's the name of that one game there? Spider stomp?" Rhodes asks.

"Not...cool," I breathe, feeling myself start to drift as their voices get quieter.

"Let him sleep," May's voice orders softly from nearby.

A soft hand brushes the sweat covered hair from my forehead, her fingers grazing my scalp. I groan tiredly, leaning into her touch.

"Shh," she hushes, and there's the sound of footsteps, a closing door. "I'll be right here. Sleep."

And so I do.

* * *

Foreboding taints the too-still air, the wrongness of it bitter on my tongue, prickling on my overly sensitive skin. My hair stands on end, and the warning bleeds across the back of my neck, spreading across my skull and trickling down my spine, sending my senses into a blind panic.

Danger.

There is danger here.

My breath is locked in my tight chest as I spin in a slow circle, my muscles coiled and tense, my eyes darting all around me.

I stand in the center of the wide cement platform, the frost covered railing encircling it, jagged mountains enveloped in ice looming around me, the night sky above void of stars.

I've been here before.

But something is different.

Something has changed.

This is a dream, I tell myself, even as my body readies itself for fight or flight. I'm dreaming, and I need to wake up. It's just a dream.

My eyes drag upwards as the night sky wavers around the edges, the darkness silently seeping down, and the snow covered mountains decay and vanish beneath the onslaught of black, until there is nothing but a pool of ink surrounding the platform I'm standing on.

There's a sharp, burning ache in my chest, and I realize I still haven't taken a breath. I try to. My lips part, and I will my lungs to expand, to fill with air. But my entire body is paralyzed with fear.

This is just a dream. This is just a dream.

God, how is silence so _loud_? I want to clamp my hands over my ears, want to squeeze my eyes shut, want to block out the absence of _everything_.

 _Crack_.

My body locks up, my spine so straight I can feel the strain as it nearly snaps.

 _Crack. Crack_.

A strangled sort of noise escapes me, and I finally take a gasping, ragged breath. I spin wildly, my eyes frantically scanning the impenetrable dark surrounding me. Where is it? Where is it?

 _Crack_.

Just a dream. Just a dream.

I need to wake up. It's the only thing my panicked, terrified mind can think of. I need to wake up, right _now_.

The temperature is dropping, plunging so rapidly that it makes every breath feel like a thousand knives stabbing into my lungs.

 _Crack_.

Wake up, wake up, wake up!

 _CRACK_.

I whirl, heart in my throat, pounding through my skin. There's a huge, hulking silhouette wrenching itself from the darkness.

A clawed hand curls over the railing, black dripping from it to stain the concrete below.

I stagger away so fast my feet slip out from under me, and I land hard on my back. A second hand grabs the railing.

No-no-no-no-no.

Just a dream-just a dream-just a dream-

The monstrous figure flickers, wavers around the edges as it pries itself away from the inky wall and lands with a wet thud onto the platform. Its claws dig into the cement, the horrid sound jarring, scraping against my eardrums, an explosion in the silence.

Wakeupwakeupwakeup

It pushes itself to its feet, and I can't tear my eyes away from it, not even as it steps closer and closer to me. I scramble back, my body suddenly heavy and stiff, as if my muscles had begun to freeze over. My back hits the railing, and there's nowhere to go.

No, _please_ no.

Not this-

A massive clawed hand so cold it burns wraps around my throat, lifting me effortlessly to my feet. My own hands shoot up to try and pry it off, but my strength is gone, my movements clumsy and weak.

Weak, because it has been feeding on me ever since it had burrowed into my chest. Weak, because it has taken my strength. Weak, because it has taken _everything_.

WAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUP

But I don't.

I can't.

Because looking into that malevolent, fathomless black, I know with absolute certainty…

This isn't a dream.

The darkness splits, and tapered, razor sharp fangs bare themselves at me. I can feel its anticipation, feel its swell of victory, of freedom and power and the sense of _almost, almost there_. _Just a little longer, one more push. Soon. Soon._

I choke and shudder beneath its grip.

Black bleeds across my skin, staining it, sinking in deep beneath its surface, spreading across and through my body like a disease. I'm choking on it, drowning in it, merging with it until-

I open my eyes.

Slowly, I sit up in my bed, my hands braced on either side of me on the mattress. I crack my neck to the right, to the left, and roll my shoulders. My legs swing over the side of the bed, my bare feet pressing against the tile as I stand. May is fast asleep in her chair beside me, her head lolled back at an awkward angle.

There's a small counter on the left side of the bed, and I approach it, my eyes roaming over the sink, the cabinets, and settling on the small mirror hanging from the wall.

I step in front of my reflection, watching as the inky black of my pupils leaks into my brown irises, then the whites of my eyes.

And then I smile.

* * *

 **Tony Stark**

"What do you mean, _you can't find him_?"

Happy winces at my tone. "I mean, the kid isn't in the room where we left him. His aunt woke up, and he was gone. We checked his room, the roof, the rest of the medical wing, a few of the common areas-"

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., get me a location on Peter Parker. _Now_."

" _I'm afraid there is some kind of system error. My scanners are telling me that Mr. Parker is no longer in the building, but I am detecting a signature similar to his in the training gymnasium_."

"I'm sorry, did you say a signature _similar_ to his? What the hell does that mean?"

F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice is hesitant, wary. " _I'm saying that according to my sensors, Peter Parker's body signature has been altered_."

A chill shudders jaggedly down my spine.

"Get everyone to the main hall in front of the training room immediately," I order Happy as I take off at a run. My heart is racing painfully, my stomach twisting into such elaborate knots, I'm not sure the greatest surgeon in the world could unravel it.

My breathing is ragged, and it has nothing to do with the speed at which I am tearing through the compound, and everything to do with my rising panic.

We'd made progress this morning. We'd _finally_ had a breakthrough, and I had watched that thermal scan carefully. I had watched as we pushed Venom back. It had worked, I know it.

Then comes an even worse thought. Had Venom known it too? Had it seen its own end coming, and knew it had to strike now, when Peter's body was weak from the the trial?

Had we just made everything worse?

I skid to a halt when I reach the main hall, the silver double doors leading to the training room looming ominously on the other side of it. I can hear racing footsteps heading this way, but I turn instead to several of the monitors installed in one of the walls, used primarily to access F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s systems in case of an emergency.

I type in my access code. "F.R.I.D.A.Y. get me the video feed to the training room."

The A.I. quickly pulls it up, and my eyes scan the massive room, my breath catching at first when I don't see him. But then I spot his small form sitting up on one of the crisscrossing beams near the ceiling. With a swipe of my fingers, the camera zooms in on him.

"What the hell's going on?" pants Scott as the footsteps grow lounder.

I ignore them as they appear one by one, my gaze intent on the skinny kid up in the rafters. I zoom in closer, noting the rigid posture, the unnatural, too still way he holds his body. Then Peter looks up at the camera, and my stomach plummets.

His pupils look overblown, and if it were anyone else, if it was any other situation, I would blame drugs, sensory overload maybe.

But looking into those eyes, there isn't even a sliver of brown iris, just two black disks peering coolly up at me like he knows I am watching, like he's calculating his next move.

 _Shit_.

"Tony, what's happening?" demands Rhodey.

"Where's Peter? Did you find him?"

Goddamn it. I'd completely forgotten May was here. It's her voice, her panic that makes me tear myself away from that screen.

They're all here, all staring at me with varied expressions of concern and wariness, all waiting for an explanation.

"Peter's inside the training room," I have to lunge to seize May's arm, stopping her from tearing into the gymnasium. Her eyes widen with outrage, and she opens her mouth to no doubt rip me a new one. "Wait."

Something in my voice, in my face, gives her pause.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y. just told me that Peter's signature has been altered."

"Shit," Sam breathes as May snaps, "So?"

"So," I swallow. God, I can't believe I'm saying it. "That might not be Peter in there. It might not _just_ be Peter in there."

May's face drains of color, and I watch the horror hit each of them.

"Venom," Natasha says grimly. "You think its surfaced?"

"I don't know," I admit, wishing my heart would stop trying to drive itself through my rib cage. "Maybe."

A strained, whimpering sound emerges from May's throat, and she looks like she might vomit or pass out or burst into tears. "I'll-I'll go talk to him. I'll go-"

"Out of the question," I say immediately, and I see a spark of that fire of hers blaze in her eyes. "We don't know what kind of state he is in, how much of the parasite is present. I'm going to go in and assess."

Several voices start to protest, and I raise my hand to halt them, my expression fierce enough that they stop talking. "I'm going. That's final. You all will wait here, _all_ of you," I say with a pointed look at May. "Until I give the all clear that it's safe, that he's ok. Got it?"

None of them look pleased with my decision, but reluctantly agree.

I hesitate, then turn to Rhodes. "I need you to go to the med bay and get the strongest sedative we have, the one we had made for Thor. Just as a precaution."

"Got it," he says, and heads back down the hall towards the medical wing.

I pause in front of May, her anxiety so palpable I swear it's making my own even worse. I want to say something to her, want to give her some kind of assurance, but they all die in my throat.

I let out a long breath, turn away from her, and roll my shoulders back, forcing my body into a casual stance that is the opposite of how I am feeling.

Then I push open the doors and enter the gymnasium.

* * *

 **Peter Parker**

"Your aunt will have an aneurysm if she sees you up there."

Slowly, I turn my head, glancing down from my perch on one of the metal rafter beams crisscrossing the high, vaulted ceiling. My back rests against the room's central pillar, one of my legs stretched out in front of me, the other bent, my knee pointing towards the ceiling.

I don't bother concealing the frustrated expression twisting my face, the roll of my eyes.

I knew I wouldn't be able to get even a few minutes to myself without someone coming along and harassing me. I don't want to see him. Don't want to see _anyone_.

"I'd come join you, but climbing up a smooth surface twenty feet up in the air is a bit beyond my capabilities," Mr. Stark continues, walking casually into the training room with his hands in his pockets. "Feel like humoring an old man, coming down?"

"Not really, no."

"Fair enough. You were here first."

Good. Maybe he will recognize that I need space right now and leave me alone. I woke up with a restlessness beneath my skin, an awake, edgy sort of energy that I can't seem to shake. There's a feeling deep inside, an eager, sickly anticipation, for what exactly, I can't guess, and I can't get rid of it either. I came here to hide out, to get solitude, knowing the others would only spur on that irritated, impatient intensity simmering beneath the surface.

I hear his footsteps draw nearer instead of away, and glance down to see him sit down at the base of the pillar I am leaning on, facing the western wall whereas I am facing the North.

"God, I'm going to regret this later," Mr. Stark winces as he tries to find a comfortable spot for his back to rest. "Do me a favor, kid, and retire when you turn thirty nine. An ache free body does not the life of a superhero make, this side of forty."

"Then maybe you should go find yourself a cushy recliner somewhere else."

"I'm starting to get the impression that you don't want me around, kid."

"What gave it away?"

"Ok, what's up? Snark is usually my thing. Teenage angst finally kicking in?"

I glare at the wall fifteen feet from my face and breathe out hard through my nose, irritation swiftly giving way to anger.

"No."

"PMSing huh? Hormones are a bitch."

"Is this _funny_ to you?" I glare down at him.

"Not even a little bit," Mr. Stark says soberly.

"I just want to be left alone. Why is that such a difficult concept for a self-proclaimed genius?"

" _Self_ -proclaimed?"

I roll my eyes again, gritting my teeth together. Typical. It was so freaking typical of him to miss my point entirely and focus on the bit about himself.

"Come on, kid. Come down here, and we can hash it out. Whatever _it_ is."

"What's the point, exactly? Why can't I just stay up here?"

"We can't help you if you're twenty feet up in the air."

"You call shoving me in a tube and torturing me _help_?"

"Can't say I'm a huge fan of your tone, Pete. This conversation would be a lot easier if we were face to face."

It's _his_ placating tone, his self-assured mannerisms that push me over the edge. Literally. I stand, swiveling on the spot and looking down at where he sits to meet his eyes. Mr. Stark's face is a lot more grim than I expected, not cocky like it normally is.

I step off the edge of the beam.

My hand catches on the corner as I fall, and I dangle there, my palms and fingers sticking effortlessly to the beam.

"There. We're face to face. Look," I try to take a steadying breath, try to calm that simmering, icy anger that is taking hold of me, unsure why I am so angry to begin with. And even as my anger surges, so does my strange hunger for... _more_. More what? "I'm really not in the mood for another heart-to-heart. So unless you plan on dragging me to the med bay for another round of let's-see-how-much-we-can-hurt-Peter-today, I'd really rather be left alone right now."

And though it kills me to say it, I add through clenched teeth. "Please."

"Alright," Mr. Stark folds his arms over his chest. "No heart–to-heart. No sessions or tests. But I don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone right now. Your aunt is worried about you."

My eyes narrow. "Don't," I warn.

"Don't what?" he asks innocently.

"Don't bring her into this. Don't use her to guilt me into doing what you want."

"Jesus, kid," Mr. Stark stares at me. "I'm not. I'm just trying to tell you that _we_ , the people that, you know, give a shit about you, are worried. We're just trying to help."

"Can you _quit_?"

"Quit what?"

"Pretending to care," I snap, dropping from the beam and landing easily on the floor in front of him, my knees bending slightly to absorb the impact. "It's getting really old, and I'm sure it's exhausting for someone 'on the wrong side of forty'."

Mr. Stark tilts his head to the side. "Pretending to care? Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Isn't it?" I demand, stepping closer, dual heartbeats racing wildly in my chest. "That's been your play this whole time. Pretending to look out for me when you just needed me to fight your war in Germany. Pretending to care about my wellbeing when I was taken by Hydra, when in actuality, I'm just another one of Tony Stark's giant fuck ups. Admit it. I'm nothing but another mess that you made that you have to clean up. "

Mr. Stark's face is hard as he pushes himself to his feet. When he speaks, his voice is low, tight.

"I need you to stop. I need you to stop for a goddamn second, and use that big, enormously nerdy brain of yours to think. _Think_ , kid. This isn't you."

"I think I'd know if—"

"I think you would too, if you would quit snapping at me for a moment and focus on what you're saying, on what you're feeling."

He's not right. He isn't. He can't be. I don't need to stop and think about who is in control, or if this is _like me_ , or if I mean the things I say.

I already know.

Mr. Stark opens his mouth again. "You told me the other- _Hey_ -"

I turn on my heel, storming for the double doors. If he won't leave, fine. I will. I've had enough. I don't want to do this anymore, but something murmurs, _wait. Wait_.

"Where are you going?" His footsteps quickly fall right behind mine.

"Away from you. Away from this."

"Running away isn't going to solve your problems, me, I have experience in that area. All running gets you is more trouble."

My teeth grind together as I push open the double doors harder than necessary, my blood turning to ice I am _that_ angry. "It's worth a shot, isn't it?" I snap back at him with a glare. " _You_ obviously aren't going to solve them for me."

I turn back, my frustration swelling at the sight of the crowd at the end of the large hall. What was their plan here exactly? Corner me and drag me back to the medical wing whether I liked it or not?

"You told me the other day that you thought you could feel what it felt. You could feel what _it_ wanted you to do," Mr. Stark continues behind me, his voice sharp. "What _Venom_ wanted you to do. Listen to yourself. This isn't you, and you know it."

"It's easier for you to think that, isn't it? Than to believe that this is actually how I feel? But no, the great Tony Stark _can't_ be wrong about something like this. His judgement is infallible. How are the accords working out for you these days?"

"Quit trying to turn this on me."

"Leave me alone," I growl, stalking forward, planning on pushing my way through if I have to.

"Peter-" May starts, and I can see Happy take hold of her arm.

"I can't do that, kid. I'm trying to help you-"

My anger freezes over into a reckless rage, something snapping inside my chest. I whirl on him, teeth bared, my hand shooting forward to seize the older man by his throat and lift him into the air. A jolt runs through me. _Yes_.

May cries out, and I hear the others behind me shift, like they will lunge forward or pull out their weapons, but Mr. Stark has a grip around my hand that's curled around his neck, and his free hand lifts itself up to pause them all in their tracks.

" _Help_ me?" I seethe, watching the tendons on his face and neck stand out against his skin as my grip tightens. "What part of anything you've done has _helped_ me, _Tony_?"

"Kid-" he grunts, his eyes widening slightly, but he makes no move to call his suit or fight against my grip.

"You wanna talk? You want me to stop for a moment and hash it out? _Fine_ ," I release him, and he lands hard on his feet, staggering back a few steps as one of his hands rubs at his throat. _Good. More._

I'm shaking, unable to control the blind fury I am drowning in, unable to control the words spewing from my mouth. "You want to know what _really_ happened when Hydra had me in their base? You wanna know how I _really_ felt? When I was drugged, or when I was trying to escape, or when I was strapped down and torn apart, you wanna know the _one_ thought that kept me going? Tony is coming. Tony is coming for me."

I feel a jolt of savage pleasure at his blanching face. _More, more_ \- "When those scientists had me tied to that table, when I was more terrified than I've ever been in my entire life, you know what I thought? Right before they injected me? I knew, I just _knew_ , that Ironman was going to come bursting through those doors. I knew that you would make your dramatic entrance, that you would swoop down and stop them just in time."

Mr. Stark's face is impossibly pale as I advance on him, my heartbeats rising, racing, urging me on. _More, more, more._ "But _you weren't there,_ " my voice is a low, brutal hiss. "I trusted you, and you didn't come. You. Weren't. There."

I've never seen that kind of expression on his face before, and the others behind me are so silent, I nearly forget they are there.

"I'm trying to save you," Mr. Stark says evenly, his voice void of inflection.

"You could have saved me. But all you're doing now is failing me. And I'm done."

 _YES._

I turn away from him, a sickly feeling constricting my insides as that nauseating eagerness surges to the forefront of my emotions. The other's faces are a range of shocked to grim, and I watch as their bodies tense, preparing to move. May's hands are over her mouth, and at the sight of my face, she gasps, Happy's grip tightening as he subtly moves her behind him.

I take a step forward, intending on shoving them all out of my way, but as my foot hits the floor, the room begins to spin, and I'm suddenly, horribly lightheaded. My hand reaches up to grab at my forehead, trying to steady myself.

My stomach lurches, my skin prickling as a fresh wave of nausea hits, as an icy fever seems to wash over me.

What's happening?

What the hell is going on?

I can't-I _can't-_

My knees slam into the hard floor, and I blink, confused, unsure as to how I got here, why the others are staring at me like that. I was in my room...I was in bed...I was-

"May?" I blink, my eyes trying to focus.

"Peter!" May lunges forward, but Happy holds her back. "Let go of me!"

Mr. Stark is kneeling in front of me now, blocking them from view, his face lined with worry, his hands reaching to grip me by my shoulders.

Is this...real? Had I just _-God_ , had I-?

 _Pain._

I cry out, my eyes widening and jaw dropping as my hand clutches at my chest. Another wave hits as something ice cold, something horribly _strong_ convulses inside of me. I choke out another sound, grabbing at my heart through my shirt.

"Kid! Kid-Jesus Christ!"

A yell rips from my throat as I double over, my insides speared with shards of jagged ice. Mr. Stark's hands keep me from collapsing onto my face, my breathing strained and ragged as he eases me to the floor onto my back.

"PETER! PETER-"

"Get her _out_ of here!" Mr. Stark shouts over his shoulder, his face completely panicked.

 _PAIN_.

My breath hitches, and I can't hold back the strangled scream as the razor sharp, freezing shards shoot out, driving through muscles and nerves and bones. I feel my body writhing, convulsing from the sheer agony, my hands twisting as I claw at my chest.

Mr. Stark grips my wrists, yanking my hands away from myself. He's shouting at the others again, but I can't make out his words over another yell tearing through my throat.

Oh my god.

It's _happening_.

I can feel it. This is-Venom, it's-

"Gahhh!" my back arches from the floor at the blinding, white hot pain of it moving inside of me.

" _Shit_! Hold on, kid! Stay with me!" Mr. Stark orders roughly.

A second face hovers above me, waves of red hair framing it.

 _PAIN_.

I jerk out of Mr. Stark's grip from the strength of my convulsion, and it takes both him and Natasha to pin me back down again, to keep me from hurting myself even worse.

"Where is that sedative!?" Mr. Stark roars towards the hallway.

Even through the horrible agony, I can feel that dark, impatient fervor swelling up inside of me, savoring the pain, _my_ pain.

"I-I can't- _nnnnn_ -," my eyes squeeze shut briefly at another devastating, icy pulse. "I can't-hold-it….It's- _ahhhhh_ -!"

"You can," Mr. Stark pants. "You just gotta hold on for a little longer, Pete. A little longer! You have to fight it-"

"GAHH!"

He turns his head, his face filled with helpless frustration. "RHODEY! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"

I turn my head to Natasha, my insides beginning to freeze over. "Y-you-prom-mised-"

Mr. Stark's voice is sharp as his head whips back. "What?"

Her pale green eyes bore into me, her mouth a grim line.

"Y-you... _nnnnn-promised-_ " I gasp, tears spilling down the sides of my face.

I can see her answer already in her face, and devastation slams into me, a desolating panic clenching my heart. "N-no... _please-_ "

"I'm sorry kid," Natasha grits her teeth as she holds down my arm.

 _PAIN_

No, No, she promised. She _promised_ she would-

"Kid, _Peter-_ -look at me!" Mr. Stark demands, and I wish I couldn't see the fear in his eyes. "It's gonna be ok. It's going-"

I break free of Natasha's grip to seize Mr. Stark by his shirt. "D-don't let...me-hurt-anyone," I beg him through my pain. I can feel myself fading away, can see the edges of my vision darken as something cold and ugly rises up inside of me. "D-don't-"

"Don't you give up on me," Mr. Stark's voice is angry, savage. "FIGHT, goddamn it! Fight it!"

I'm trying, I want to say. I'm trying.

But there's so much of it, and so little of me...and I don't have any more strength to fight.

Please, I say with my unfocusing eyes. _Please_ don't let me hurt anyone.

My convulsions are weakening, my tremors easing as the pain begins to dull into a frozen sort of numbness.

"Hey! _Peter_!" Mr. Stark grips my chin, gives my body a shake.

I feel Natasha let go of my other arm as she moves away, and suddenly something sharp digs into my neck as someone breathes harshly, heavily, like they've been running.

They're too late.

I can feel it.

I'm slipping away...I'm falling into the darkness...it's cold there, so cold…

I don't want to go-

"We're going to get it out," Mr. Stark swears, and I stare into his terrified brown eyes. His voice is shaking with intensity as he vows, "I promise kid. I'm going to save you."

Darkness is creeping in, and I feel my hands drop from his shirt to land on my chest. I'm terrified. I don't want to go-I don't want to-

My breathing is shallow as I look at Mr. Stark's face, my vision darkening.

"Mr. Stark-" I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm here, kid. I'm here."

"Why...can't I...stay?"

Then the darkness drags me under, and I'm gone.

* * *

 **A/N: Well...**

 **In all fairness, I did warn you that the time for breathers was over... XD.**

 **LONGEST CHAPTER SO FAR! Dang! This is it people. Tony tried, but Venom had spread too far, too deep, and retaliated the moment Tony made the slightest progress, the moment they finally had a game plan that could work.**

 **And now, poor Peter is...**

 **I am SO CRUEL**

 **I just had to title this chapter Paint it Black, breaking away from the Christmas Carol titles for a moment. It just fit. :)**

 **I hope you guys prepared yourself for all this. I can't believe we've made it to this point. When I was nearing the end of Paint it Black, it was the ending scene for this chapter, and the next two chapters worth of scenes that came to mind and prompted me to write this sequel, so as angsty and violent and suspenseful as it is, I hope you are loving it as much as I am!**

 **PippinStrange is simply the best. Don't know how many times I can say it. Probably a heck of a lot more. But seriously, go read her work and send her love for it and all she does to help me with my writing!**

 **Kotonohaku has written a great Venom oneshot on Archive of Our Own, so go read!**

* * *

 **DarylDixon'sLover: Thanks!**

 **Trucejopseh: Thank you so so much! I loved writing that conversation as well. And I honestly don't know! lol! I try and watch Marvel movies while I'm writing, and just try and stick to how I think they would respond and react to the situations I throw them in. It's difficult, but great practice!**

 **Dimensional Phaser: lol me too!**

 **Nathissica: YAY! OMg I'm so glad you loved it! I love badass May and the connection to Peter and Frodo hit me the other day and I just HAD to include it. I'm right there geeking with you! lol! Seriously, SO glad you enjoyed it all!**

 **BeautifulKnight: JOYCE BYERS. OMG. I LOVED that you said that! I can totally see the connection! And it wasn't intentional, but I have quite a few nods to Stranger Things in this fic, which makes me so happy. Thanks!**

 **Monkeybaby: Thank you!**

 **10-lanterns-and-a-dreamcatcher: Thanks so so much! I really appreciate it. :D**

 **TeamCaptain2016: Thank you so much for your wonderful comments! I'm SO glad you enjoyed it! Wanted to give some relief before throwing everybody back to the wolves. lol**

 **Alatariel-Galadriel: LOTR! I just HAD to! :D And this story has seriously just poured out of me like nothing else. I try to only post a chapter once I have the next couple written, so that I can edit while I write the new chapter at the same time. Plus, when I started posting this fic, I think I had five or six chapters built up that just had to be edited. :) Glad you love it so much!**

 **Kotonohaku: Thanks so much! Glad it didn't feel rushed! Definitely wanted to wrap up some loose ends and give everyone a moment to breathe before...well, before this. lol. Yes, poor MJ! Don't worry, that will get resolved too, just not quite yet. ;) And LOL to you using your cat! XD Pets are totally fur babies, so it makes sense! I have nieces and nephews, so I was easily able to jump in to that Mama Bear type attitude for May :) Thanks so much for your review!**

 **StarStepper: Awwwww, thank YOU! *cries* what an amazing compliment! Thank you SO MUCH**

 **The Striking Storms: Thanks! Yeah, Tony needed a few slaps. XD**

 **The Revolutionary Winter Quail: Thank you very very much! I hadn't planned on a Sam and Peter interaction, but it snuck its way in there**

 **Bunyx: Thank you! Glad you (and Peter) were able to experience a little relief before all this!**

 **CoffeeIntoCode: WOW! THANK YOU! So kind of you to leave me such a long review! Dont apologize, I loved it so much! I'm SO happy to hear how much you've been enjoying both these stories! I hope you enjoy the rest as much!**

 **GinaBoo: Thank you very very much! So happy to hear when you enjoy it! I loved writing the last chapter and tying up some of those loose ends.**

 **Guest: Lol! Yes, I loved that too! Thank you soooooooo much for all your kind words, they are so incredibly appreciated. And it makes me beyond happy that I am able to bring someone joy through my writing! THank you!**

 **Detective Rysposito: OMG YOU are! Thank you so much! Wow, I am so humbled and appreciative! :D**

 **MewWinx96: LOLLLLL! I loved your eulogy! Seriously cracked me up! XD and very well written! So glad you enjoyed the last chapter, thank you so so much!**

* * *

 **I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH, MY INCREDIBLE REVIEW SQUAD! YOUR WORDS BRING ME SO MUCH JOY!**

 **Whew, ok. I know this is a big cliffhanger. I know that we all just jumped straight back into the suspense. I know it's a lot to take in and that you are dying for the finale. SO I will do my very, very best...to post PART ONE of the finale...tomorrow. :O I will try! But I make NO PROMISES!**

 **I also leave for vacation on Saturday, so I really don't think this will be finished before then. Which means...you may be left on a very cruel cliffhanger for over a week. Gah! I'm sorry! I wish it were otherwise, I just don't think I can finish by then I am so busy. So, just know I love you all and wouldn't torture you like that willingly. lol. But I will try to at least get you the two finale chapters before I go. That said...**

 **COMING UP:**

 **Chapter Sixteen: Silent Night**

 **Part one of the finale**

 **OR**

 **Venom VS. The Avengers**


	16. Silent Night

**Chapter Sixteen: Silent Night**

 **Tony Stark**

"Tony!"

I can't tear my eyes away from the kid's closed eyes. Can't erase the images forever burned into my brain; the expression on his face as he spat out that last confession, the way he screamed and writhed on the ground as he was torn apart from the inside, the tears in his eyes when he asked me why he couldn't stay…  
The way I saw him drift away just before his eyes went solid black, and his lips curved into a slight smile, and then the sedative had finally taken hold of his body.

He'd called me Tony. When he was spitting out that final, cruel confession, he'd called me Tony. Not Mr. Stark.

If I had needed any more indication that Peter was not the one behind the wheel of the car during that confrontation, that was it. Those may have been the kid's thoughts, may have been his real memories and feelings, but I knew that he would never have divulged them to me. Not like that. His noble sense of self-sacrifice is too high.

Venom had taken him, used his most painful secrets to attack me, to weaken the kid's resolve, and then struck the final blow.

It had taken him.

"Tony! Snap the hell out of it, man!" a hand curls around my shoulder, the fingers digging in sharply as they give me a sharp shake.

I drag my gaze away from the unconscious teenager to Rhodey's dark, wide eyes. Sweat pours off his skin, his breathing is ragged, and my eyes slide down to observe the way his other hand is gripping the brace on his left leg tightly, his limbs trembling.

"We need to move him," Natasha says where she stands behind Rhodey's kneeling form.

The sound of her voice triggers a very specific moment in my memory, where the kid, in the midst of his agony, had stopped to beg her of something, to remind her of a promise.

I stand, my clenched fists trembling slightly. My skin is clammy, and I have the strangest horrific sensation that my hands are damp with blood instead of sweat.

"What did you promise him?" my voice is hard steel.

Natasha's eyes are wary, but her stance doesn't shift. "It doesn't matter. Right now we need to—"

"It. Matters," I bite out. "What the hell did you promise that kid?"

She levels a look at me, taking a breath as if checking her own emotions. "He came to me this morning to ask me to take him out if he became too much of a threat. I promised I would."

My blood begins to boil, and I let the anger burn away every feeling of devastation, of terror, of guilt. "I'm sorry, you what?"

"Guys, not to interrupt or anything, but is this really the time and place for this conversa—"

"You promised an overly emotional teenage kid that you would kill him?" I stalk closer to her. "What, offing Hydra agents isn't doing it enough for you, Romanov? Have to turn to America's impressionable youth to get your murder kicks?"

Natasha's face remains carefully blank, but her eyes are blazing. "Are you done?"

"No, actually—" I say at the same time that Rhodes answers. "Yes, he's done. Guys—"

"Several things," Natasha says coolly, a dangerous undertone in her voice. "First off, Peter stopped being a kid the day Hydra took him. Second, that kid knew that you would be too compromised to do the right thing if it came to it, so he came to me. Third, yes, I promised I would put a bullet in him if it came to it, but do you see my gun in my hands?"

"If you even think of drawing a weapon anywhere near him—"

Rhodes lets out a grunt of pain, and both of our heads whip towards him. Peter is draped limply in his arms, and Rhodey is limping heavily towards the medical wing.  
We both stride after them immediately, our argument not forgotten, but placed on the back burner.

"Oh no, don't mind us," Rhodes says through clenched teeth. "You two carry on. That's obviously more important."

"Give him to me," I say as I reach him.

Rhodes stops, giving me a sharp look. "Priorities, Tony. Your hot headed bullshit will not do you any favors right now. Got it?"

"I got it," I snap, then sigh, my eyes speaking the apology I can't say out loud. I soften my voice. "Hand him over."

Rhodes passes Peter to me, and grunt beneath his sudden weight, though the kid is shockingly light. We head as swiftly as we are able to down the hall, and I eye Rhodes as he limps heavily. "What's with the leg?"

"It's nothing."

I wait silently.

"The brace started malfunctioning on the left side. It's why I took so long to get back to you," he finally admits.

Footsteps race behind us, and Scott's panting voice fills the hall. "Is he okay?"

"What the hell were you doing?" Natasha asks.

"Happy needed help with his aunt. That woman is strong," I glance back to see his wince. "She's…she's not handling it well."

"Where'd you take her?"

"To the car," Scott replies, his voice grim. "Happy said to tell you…uh, Katniss 632. Please tell me that's a secret code for something and not just your chauffeur pulling my leg."

A small amount of relief is able to penetrate the cloud of foreboding hanging over me. Good job, Happy. He's taking her to the nearest safe house, Barton's place. She will be pissed as hell at me, probably hate me for the rest of her life, but May is no longer safe here. I can't worry about protecting her from both Hydra and Venom while trying to save her nephew.

We are nearly at the medical wing when Sam comes jogging towards us from around the corner. "Everything's prepped."

"The room's nowhere near Helen's?" I ask sharply, adjusting my grip on the teenager in my arms.

"At the opposite end of the wing," Sam confirms. "All unnecessary personnel have been evacuated."

Without another word, I stride for the opposite end of the wing that Sam had indicated, the others close behind me. One of Helen's assistants, a younger man looking more like he should be an actor on Grey's Anatomy than working in the Avenger's compound, comes out of the last room in the adjacent hall, his eyes wide as we pass.

I place Peter's unconscious body onto the bed, and the assistant is suddenly by my side, readying an I.V.

"What is that?" I ask, my head jerking towards the bag.

"Same kind of sedative we gave the Colonel," the assistant answers. "Potent enough to keep down an Asgardian for a week. We'll monitor the dosages, but with Peter's metabolism-"

I start tuning him out, straightening and rubbing a hand over my jaw.

"You, Abercrombie," I interrupt, snapping my fingers at him. "What's your name?"

The young assistant looks up, pausing as he replies, "Er-it's Eddie, sir."

"Eddie. I'm locking down this building in less than a minute. No one gets out after I say the word. This is the last chance for you or anyone else working in this wing to leave, and no one will fault you for it. This is a little above your pay grade."

Eddie pales, but to his credit, sets his jaw. "I'm staying. The others all evacuated already."

"Good man. F.R.I.D.A.Y., lock this compound down with everything we got. I don't want even an ant to be able to get out of here. No offense, Lang."

"None taken."

" _Yes, boss_."

There are distant, heavy whirs and booms as reinforced steel plates slide over all the windows of the facility, all exits sealing and bolting shut, defensive security measures activating. It may not be enough for the kid's super strength should things go south and he tries to escape, but it will slow him down and provide us with enough warning to bring him down.

"That's not ominous at all," Scott murmurs.

Jesus Christ.

The kid has absolutely no color in his face, the Black Sabbath shirt he's still wearing make his skin look even paler. I fold my arms across my chest to hide the slight tremoring of my hands.

I feel my stomach churn with nausea, made worse by the clenching of my muscles with the anxiety swarming me. I'm forced to slam the door shut on the images and echoing words from the past thirty minutes, unable to deal with them without bowing under the weight of my devastating guilt. I can't do that now.

Save the kid first.

Contemplate the sheer magnitude of my failures later.

"We have to operate under the assumption that Venom has taken over completely, that Peter is too far suppressed to have any kind of control," I say finally, feeling the others watching me. Keeping my voice even is a battle. "If you were a hostile alien parasite, and you got desperate enough to seize control of your host to avoid being chucked out, what would be your first move?"

"Eliminating all the threats," Natasha answers grimly.

"Us?" Sam's eyebrows shoot up.

"Us," I confirm. "And Helen. We're the ones that were working to remove it from Peter's body. It knows we will do whatever it takes to make sure its destroyed, and it's probably not too thrilled about that."

"So what's the game plan, then?" Rhodes asks. "Keeping the kid sedated is a great idea short term, but we can't just keep him in a coma forever."

Peter's arm shifts, and we all tense, my heart shooting up into my throat. But it was just the assistant turning his arm over so he could get to the crook of the kid's elbow. He grimaces at us. "Sorry."

I blow out an irritated breath, forcing myself to remember that strangling the only hired help that had agreed to stay to assist Peter is not the wisest course of action.  
Priorities, Rhodey had said.

"Obviously the slow approach screwed us over," I say heavily, my face grim as I watch the teenager's chest rise and fall steadily. "Gave the parasite ample time to ready the cavalry and strike when the kid was too out of it to put up much of a fight. We backed it into a corner. I say, we give it no corner to run to."

"What do you mean?" Scott asks, his brow furrowing.

"We used the heat modifications on the full body scanner to start slowly pushing Venom back, one spot at a time."

"You're suggesting we turn that thing up to the max, give it everything it's got," Sam concludes for me, his eyes darting to the kid. "Give Venom nowhere to run, or hide."

Scott's eyes widen. "Couldn't that kill him?"

"If we do nothing, he's as good as dead anyways," Natasha reminds him, and I have to bite back the scathing retort as my back stiffens.

"Venom isn't going anywhere without a fight," I turn to face them, looking each of them in the eye. "Suit up, people. We aren't taking any chances."

"You really think we'll have to...fight him?" Scott looks like he might hurl all over the floor at the thought. You and me, both, Lang.

My face is apparently answer enough, because he swears under his breath.

"I'm going to stay with Helen," Rhodes says. "After I get suited up. Someone should guard her, just in case."

I nod, thinking that would be best anyways since there's no time for me to try and fix the brace on his leg, then turn to the assistant, who is monitoring Peter's vitals.

"Keep a heavy dose of that rolling in," I gesture towards the sedatives. "He so much as twitches, you amp it up and run like hell, got it?"

Eddie nods, his eyes wide.

I turn next to Scott, but he somehow anticipates my next question because he speaks before I can. "I'll stay with them while the others get what they need. Just in case," Scott's face is solemn, grim, more serious than I have ever seen him.

"Thanks, Scott. I'll be keeping a close eye," I assure him, and watch as a satisfied smirk crosses his face at the fact that I'd finally called him by his name. I don't want to leave Peter with anyone, don't want to risk anything happening in my absence. But if I'm going to keep my promise to save him I'm gonna need my suit, and I need to make some reconfigurations on the scanner. I set my jaw, glaring at the others who are still standing there, waiting.

"Let's move."

* * *

"Status update."

" _No movement._ "

I'm starting to like this Eddie kid more. There's no sign of irritation or impatience in his tone as he replies using the comm I gave him, despite this being the thirty seventh time I have asked.

I am elbows deep in wires and circuitry, reconfiguring the power to go solely to the infrared bulbs lining the full body scanner. I don't want to waste an ounce of it on the scanning capabilities. It isn't difficult, but more time consuming than I would like.

"Shit," I mutter as my fingertips accidentally brush a raw wire, sending a sharp jolt through my nerves as it sparks. I have to push back a large bundle of multi-colored cables in order to reroute and calibrate the main power's course through the two thick wires beneath it.

Damn it. I need another pair of hands.

I hesitate for a moment, chewing the inside of my cheek and scrubbing my clammy hands on my shirt. Every second I sit here debating is another second risking that the kid will wake up. This has to get done, and it has to get done now.

"Status update."

" _No movement_."

I sigh. "Scott, I'm going to need you in here. Eddie, do you think you'll be good for a couple minutes? We'll make it fast."

" _Yes sir, I mean, no, it won't be a problem._ "

"Haul ass, Scott. I'm paying you by the hour."

" _Jesus. I'm coming_."

He pushes open the door to the med lab, and I direct him to where I need him to shift the bundle of cables so I can get beneath it all. Silence descends while I work, and then Scott oddly feels the need to break it.

"So...how-how are you doing? With all this?" he asks awkwardly.

"Nope."

"Uh...what? Nope?"

I have to take a small razor blade to slice open the rubber coating on two of the wires in order to carefully twist the copper strands together.

"We don't know each other well enough to do the whole, 'how you holding up, buddy' schtick," I tell him without looking up. "Try again in a few years if we all survive tonight, Scotty."

"You know, a simple 'I'd rather not talk about it' would have sufficed."

I neglect to tell him his grip is straying towards the raw wire I'd shocked myself on minutes ago, and don't bother to hide my self-satisfied smirk as he curses at the pain, his muscles jumping from the shock.

"Ass," he mutters.

Minutes later, I have to transfer a screwdriver from my hand to my teeth so both hands are free to reset two more wires I had pulled loose.

"Status update," I say, my voice muffled.

No response, but to be fair, it might not have been decipherable.

I twist the wires into place and nod towards Scott, the screwdriver still firmly in place in my mouth. His brow furrows in question, and he confusedly holds out his hand. I spit the tool out into his awaiting palm, and his mouth tightens, his eyes glaring into me as he silently shakes his head in disgust.

"Status update," I repeat.

Eddie doesn't respond.

"Eddie?"

Nothing.

Scott's eyes widen as they meet mine, and we both abandon our work on the scanner to bolt out of the med lab. I reach a hand out as I run, summoning my suit to me.

Just as Scott and I turn the corner to race down the second hallway, the metal closes in around me, clicking together and powering up as my heart begins to race.

I skid to a halt at the open doorway of Peter's room, and my heart stops.

The bed is empty, and Eddie is on the ground, unmoving, blood streaming down his temple.

"Oh god," Scott breathes behind me. "Is he-?"

Shit.

I kneel beside the assistant. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., vitals?"

" _Eddie Brock is unconscious, but his pulse is steady. He sustained a severe blow to his head that gave him a moderate concussion_."

"Locate Peter Parker, _now_."

F.R.I.D.A.Y. is silent for a moment as the A.I. runs her scanners across the compound, and I rise, swiftly turning back to the doorway.

"Now would be a good time to get that suit of yours," I say to a frozen, wide eyed Scott as I step past him into the hall.

"Crap. Yeah, yeah ok," he sprints down the hall in the opposite direction.

"Code red, people. The kid is on the loose somewhere in the building," I say tightly through the communicator in my helmet.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice is hesitant when she speaks next. " _Mr. Parker's signature is no longer able to be detected, and there is no sign of him on any of the cameras._ "

Damn it.

" _Do we have eyes on him?_ " Natasha asks through the com.

"No, and it looks like we have to rely on our senses the old fashioned way. F.R.I.D.A.Y. can't pick him up. Keep your eyes and ears peeled for him, and do not, under any circumstances, allow him to leave this compound."

I'm striding purposefully down the hall, my heart hammering in my chest. The kid could be anywhere, and if Venom is in control, we won't have any choice but to take him down, with force if it comes to it, in order to save him. The thought makes bile rise in my throat.

The facility is suddenly plunged into complete darkness, the reinforced steel plates lining the windows blocking out even the slightest bit of natural light from outside. There's a whir of sound as the electricity and energy powering up the facility winds down, leaving nothing but an eerie silence in its wake.

" _What the hell is going on?_ " demands Sam.

" _Yeah, who turned out the lights? This just got insanely creepy_ ," Scott adds, panting.

"Talk to me, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," I say, powering up my thrusters and switching to night vision. "What the hell just happened?"

" _The generators powering the facility have sustained heavy damage. Booting up the backup generators now._ "

I swerve around the next corner, cursing as I do so, when suddenly there's a sharp whine and a blast of white light explodes into the hallway ahead of me. I pull up short as a door goes flying into the opposite wall.

Then I realize, that was the door to Helen's room.

Rhodey.

I soar into the open doorway, and there's another blast of light as Rhodey fires off another repulsor beam, forcing me to drop to the floor to avoid getting hit.

"Stop that!" I snap, getting to my feet. Rhodes is in his War Machine suit, palms aimed at me, standing defensively in front of Helen's bed.

"The kid was just here," he tells me, his voice distorted slightly from his helmet. "Came up out of nowhere when the lights went out. He was going straight for Helen."

God. I feel his words like a kick to the gut, even as I force myself to step back into the hallway, the sensors on my suit scanning for any signs of life. There are none.

"He was fast, Tony," Rhodes tells me, his voice betraying his tension. "Like, scary fast. I set the repulsors on the low setting to stun him, but by the time I fired, he'd vanished…like a shadow."

I hear the distant hum of the backup generators firing up, and a dim green light lines the hall, casting the facility in a pale, eerie glow, not quite penetrating the deepest of shadows.

"Venom's not looking to run," I tell the others grimly. "It's coming for us. Fan out. If you get close enough to sedate him or knock him out, do it."

* * *

 **Natasha Romanov**

My back is pressed against one of the pillars lining the first level of the large lobby near the front doors of the compound, and a pair of Glock 26 handguns outfitted with tranquilizers are resting in my palms. My eyes scan the near darkness around me, a handful of green tinged lights dotting the corridor, creating more shadowy corners and hiding spots than I am comfortable with.

I keep my breathing quiet even as my pulse accelerates without my permission. I'd studied the footage of the skirmish between Venom and the armed men in the parking garage in Queens. I know what it is capable of, know that it takes full advantage of Peter's strength, agility, and senses while employing its own savage brutality and preternatural dexterity to create a deadly combination.

Not to mention, I don't think Venom will appreciate the fact that I promised to kill the kid should it gain too much control. If I had to guess, it would target Helen first, the largest threat to its existence, and if it can't get to her, it will come for me next.

I'm right to be wary.

My ears pick up the slightest whisper of movement. I swivel to the right, my guns aimed a pocket of darkness beneath the stairs leading up to the second level.

Beads of sweat form across my forehead as my unease begins to grow.

Something shifts within the darkness.

I don't have superhuman senses that alert me to danger, but I do possess a lifetime of training and experience, and a gut instinct that I've learned to trust wholeheartedly.

So when the attack comes at me from behind, I am already whirling away from the distraction by the stairs and firing my weapons in rapid succession. Forced to halt his charge, Peter dodges my tranquilizing bullets, and in a flash of movement, leaps up into the shadowy overhang of the second level.

I've already turned and started running for the stairs, as I breathe into the comm, "Front entrance, second level."

" _Coming to you_ ," Stark replies, his voice tight.  
Something curls around my ankle before I can sidestep it, and with a sudden yank, my feet fly out from under me, and I land hard on my stomach just feet away from the stairs. I roll onto my back, shooting as the kid pulls on the slick, black web that shot from his wrist and attached to my leg.

He dodges three shots, the green light reflecting off his pure black eyes and gaunt, pale face, before he is forced to abandon his grip on the web to dodge a fourth bullet. He bares his teeth as he leaps up onto a pillar and swings to the backside of it as I get to my feet and edge towards the stairs, my chest heaving as my eyes scan the darkness.

Peter isn't shrouded in that black, protective armor that mimics his Spiderman suit. The only visual indication that Venom is prominent is the ink colored eyes. I frown even as I search for any sign of movement, getting closer and closer to the stairs. The only reason I can think of that it would deny itself an extra layer of protection is that Venom is hoping to throw us off by leaving the kid's face and body unprotected. It's a smart play, relying on our sentimental attachments and fear of harming Peter instead of covering itself in that black suit and risking us unleashing our entire arsenal of skills against it.

"Come on, kid," I call out softly. "You're not holding a grudge against me, are you?"

Silence.

Peter lunges down at me from another pillar that I hadn't even seen him move to, and I have to dive to the side, my shots going wide as he lands on the stairs behind me in a crouch. I whirl, my guns training on him, but he is suddenly too close, seizing both of my wrists and shoving them up towards the sky, his grip so painfully tight my fingers go slack, and my guns drop to the ground.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," I reply through clenched teeth. I use his tight grip on my arms to my advantage, swinging my legs up to hook over his shoulders, my knees driving sharply into his neck as I activate the Widow's Bite on my gauntlets. He releases me with a hiss as the crackle of blue electricity shocks his hold around my wrists. I let my upper body fall back, my momentum forcing him to flip over me as I land palms first on the ground.

We both surge upright at the same moment, his fist flying towards me. I twist to the side as it slams into the concrete, the ground cracking beneath the blow. There is nothing human about the expression on his face, no sign of the awkwardly sweet teenager who begged me to keep everyone safe from himself.

He's faster, stronger than me, and in a blur of movement, I find myself hitting the floor, his weight pinning me to the ground as a hand wraps around my throat. I don't even have time to gasp before he squeezes hard, immediately cutting off my air supply even as I slam my free hand into his forearm as hard as I am able to. My vision blurs, my lungs burn-

As quickly as he had taken me down, he is suddenly gone, and I inhale sharply, raggedly as my air is returned to me. I look up, my hand going to my throat as I catch my breath.

There's a flash of metal wings. Sam has the kid gripped in his arms as he soars through the the two story corridor, weaving through the pillars. " _Sorry about this, kid_ ," I hear him mutter through the comm as he shifts his grip mid-air into a brutal choke hold.

I'm still coughing as I push myself to my hands and knees as Sam and the kid disappear into the halls of the second level.

* * *

 **Scott Lang**

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

I'm tearing down a dark, green tinged corridor, about to put my helmet over my head when the wall across from me explodes in a blast of plaster and chunks of debris. I dive to the floor, my helmet dropping from my hands as something large soars over my head with a blast of noise like a screaming jet plane and crashes onto the ground.

Rolling, I twist back, my jaw dropping.

Not something.

Some _one_.

"Holy shit!"

Sam groans where he lays, his metal wings splayed and sparking beneath his back, smoke rising up from somewhere beneath him. He clutches at his ribs, hissing in pain. He lifts his head with an effort, meeting my wide eyes.

"No, no—" he grunts, yanking off his goggles. "Take your time, tic-tac…We got this."

Sam's eyes widen then, and my head whips to the side.

Peter stands in the massive hole where the wall used to be, his hands curled into fists, his expression hard and dim green light casts deep shadows across the harsh lines of his face. And his eyes—black and filled with an icy rage.

They turn on me.

Oh god-oh god-oh god!

I lunge for my helmet as he charges at me, shooting a black web from his wrist that connects to the ceiling. He swings, faster and faster, closer and closer- I slip my helmet on and activate my suit the exact second his fist drives down towards my face.

The world grows rapidly around me as I shrink, leaping back and into the air as his hand slams into the ground, the reverberations like a massive earthquake to my small form.

"Whoa!" I jump into the air, using the knuckles of his fist like giant stairs as I start running as fast as I can up his arm.

My stomach lurches as he begins to straighten, his arm moving beneath my feet and swinging up, but I'm already at his shoulder. "Oh man, this is wrong on so many levels," I mutter as I leap up and punch him square in the jaw. He staggers into the wall with a grunt of pain. God, I'd just punched a teenager in the face. I'm definitely going to hell for that.

I free fall before landing on the wrist of his other arm, and he reacts with a swiftness that shocks me. His right palm comes slapping down, and I have to dive off of him, the wind from the blow sending me flying. The ground looms before me, and I prepare to somersault the moment I hit it to soften the blow, but a fist encloses around me, yanking me back up into the air as ice cold fingers clamp too tight, pinning my arms to my sides.

I grunt in pain, struggling in his grip as Peter brings me close to his face, his black eyes giant oceans of obsidian.

I reach for the suits trigger on the side of my palm just as he starts to squeeze.

My body grows back to its normal size as I break free of his grip, my boots hitting the ground, my fist driving up towards his chin. Peter catches my hand in his, his other seizing me under my upper arm to hurl me across the corridor into the wall. I shrink down again, slipping out of his grip and leaping up to his shoulder. I jump back with a grunt as he reaches for me.

Clinging to the back of his black shirt, I make to leap for his neck so I can jab a pressure point to knock him out, but my feet are suddenly stuck fast.

"What the-?"

Glancing down, I look in horror at the black coils emerging through his skin, through his freaking _shirt_ , to wrap around my ankles.

I let out a yell as I try to yank myself free of the dark, icy tendrils, but they hold me in place. I reach for my suit's trigger, but a coil seizes my wrist, preventing me from growing back to my normal size. An ominous shadow falls over me, and I look up at his hand descending towards me. "This is gonna hurt," I grit my teeth as I throw my free arm over my head.

The world rocks as something collides with Peter, and the coils release me. I fall, my arms pin wheeling, and then the back of a giant hand slams into me, and I go soaring across the room. I trigger my suit just as I hit the wall, my head connecting with a painful crack that has me seeing stars, and then I collapse normal sized onto the ground with a loud grunt of pain.

Dizzily, I raise my head to see Natasha's legs hooked over the kid's shoulders as she jabs her wrist gauntlets against the exposed skin of his neck, electricity crackling. Peter reaches up, his hands encircling her waist as he throws her over his head, her grip on him loosening as she goes crashing to the floor. Natasha rolls, landing in a crouch as Peter lunges for her, teeth bared.

The assassin flips backwards out of the massive hole in the wall, tossing disks as she goes, and the kid races after her.  
I roll onto my back next to Sam, a long, low groan of pain escaping my chest as I reach up and push off my helmet. Panting, my head throbbing unbearably I stare up at the ceiling.

"We aren't…going to tell anybody…that the Avengers got their asses kicked…by a fifteen year old _kid_ …are we?"  
Sam, turns his head, and I turn mine to see the blood trickling from his lips as he gives me a half hearted glare. And then I black out.

* * *

 **Tony Stark**

I pull up short, hovering for a brief, horrified second.

Natasha is pinned beneath a wide metal beam, and the kid has a second one, shorter, the ends jagged like he'd torn the thing in _half_ , raised above his head. Her eyes are wide, pained as she heaves at the beam across her middle.

I put everything I have into my thrusters, blasting forward and snatching the beam from the kid's hand seconds before he brings it down on top of her. I whirl mid-air, tossing it aside down one of the empty halls.

The kid's body is rigid with tension, a savage intensity across his young face that looks so wrong, so out of place, I hardly recognize him.

"Aunt May making you watch too much Extreme House Makeover, kid?," I say, forcing lightness into my tone, gesturing to the debris and chaos strewn across the wide corridor. "The demolition is a bit much, but I like the direction you're going."

His face doesn't so much as twitch. If anything, those impenetrable black eyes grow even colder as they narrow on me. I can see his muscles coiling, preparing to attack.

I lift my palm towards him, charging my repulsors, my stomach swimming with nausea as I do so. The thought of raising a hand against the kid goes against every instinct I have, and I know I will spend the rest of my life hating myself for what I am about to do.

"Don't do this, kid," my voice softens. "I know you're still in there, somewhere. You can still fight it. You can-"

Twin black strands shoot out from his wrists straight at me, and I have to twist to the side. But they weren't aiming for me. They attach themselves to the wall just behind me, and as I turn to face forward, the kid barrels into me feet first. My body slams into the wall as Peter flips backwards, landing easily on the floor, seizing a huge chunk of cement and hurling it towards me.

I turn off the thrusters in my boots, letting myself fall just long enough to avoid being crushed as the cement flies over my head, then I fire them up again and charge straight at Peter. I fire a repulsor beam from my palm, and the next chunk of debris explodes in his hands, knocking him back a few steps.

I soar straight at him, and he runs and kicks off the wall, his nimble body leaping into the air. His fist draws back, soaring for my face as he rises to meet me. I catch him by his forearm, swinging him around and slamming his body into the ground. I feel the blow as if it had been my own back splintering the concrete.

Raising my hand, I release a concentrated knock out gas from a capsule in my gauntlet, my other hand keeping him pinned to the ground.

Beetle black eyes gaze up at me with pure hatred as the kid suddenly draws up his knees and slams his feet into my chest, knocking me back. My metal boots skid across the ground, sparks flying as I brace myself with my hands. Peter shoots a black web from his wrist, the tendrils wrapping across my chest plate. He yanks it back with insane speed and strength, my body jerking forward into his awaiting fist.

The painful blow sends me crashing through the floor onto the lower level, a small, man sized crater forming beneath my body.

My eyes widen as a shadowy figure drops from the hole above me, and I blast off my repulsor beams from my palms. The kid fires a web, swinging out of range as I shove to my feet.

Shit.

He's gone, just like that, disappearing into the shadows. I'm standing in the middle of two intersecting corridors, one of which leads to the training room, another back to the lobby. The lights are even dimmer here, pools of shadow dotting every alcove and corner.

"Come on, kid," I call, scanning the corridors for any sign of him. "Aren't you a little old for hide and seek?"

Weight slams into my back, forcing me to my knees as something heavy smashes into the base of my skull. I grunt, my helmet protecting me from the worst of the blow, but another brutal hit has me on all fours.

There's a sudden burst of heat and light as something explodes just above and behind me, and suddenly the kid's weight is gone. My head whips to my left, stunned at the sight of Peter's body rolling across the ground, then jerks to the right.

Son of a bitch.

Barton stands at the end of one of the corridors, bow raised, a second explosive arrow already soaring towards the kid.

I watch it fly, connecting to the ground at Peter's feet just as he was getting back up, and his back meets the wall with a loud crunch.

"I'm sorry, who invited you to this party?" I ask him, unable to keep the relief to see him out of my tone. I push myself back up as he strides determinedly down the hall towards us, a volley of arrows flying from his deft hands.

"You sent the kid's hysterical aunt to my farm."

"...and?"

"And she was more than a little distraught, you bastard," Barton fires two more arrows which release a cloud of smoke down the hall. "Didn't sound like you idiots knew what you were doing, so I came to clean up your mess."

"How the hell did you get in here? We're on lockdown."

Peter's on the ceiling, dodging arrows left and right, teeth bared in an animalistic snarl as he descends between me and the archer. He fires a web towards Barton's bow, but Clint rolls to the side, firing another arrow. The kid dodges it with a twisting backflip, landing and turning to block my fist and wrench my arm behind me.

I let out an electrical surge across my gauntlets, forcing him to let go and leap back to avoid another arrow.

Barton says, "I knocked and said please. F.R.I.D.A.Y. was a sweetheart about it."

F.R.I.D.A.Y., not even remotely sheepish about it, adds, " _You said to make sure nothing got out of the compound. You never said anything about anyone coming in_."

"Typical," I mutter as I dodge another blow from the kid. Peter moves faster than I can anticipate, and he yanks my feet out from under me with a well timed shot of his webs, then hurls me through the wall into one of the offices.

Groaning, I push myself up to see him and Barton locked in hand to hand combat. Clint uses his bow to block a brutal jab for his throat, and bends backwards to avoid another swing of the kid's fist before kicking off the wall and bringing down his bow across the side of Peter's head.

The kid staggers, and Clint advances, an arrow crackling with pale electricity in his fist. He jabs it down to the kid's chest, but Peter catches Barton's wrist and twists, hard.

I'm on my feet, firing up my thrusters to race towards them, but I'm too slow. A black web emerges from the kid's wrist, wrapping itself in a noose around Barton's neck, and with a jerk of Peter's arm, the other end of it attaches to the ceiling, yanking the archer off his feet.

Clint lets out a horrible choking sound, his feet kicking as his bow drops to the ground and his hands shoot up to grip the black noose.

I raise my hand to shoot him down, but Peter is on me, nearly roaring as he bats my arm away and drives his fist into my chest, the metal denting and sparks flying beneath the blow.

My heart thunders against my rib cage, and Clint's bucking movements in the hall begin to slow. Peter charges at me again, and I rip one of the desks that was bolted to the wall and slam it into him just before he collides with me. Then I fire my repulsor beam, the white hot energy blasting through the black web strangling Barton.

He falls to the ground, groaning and hacking and choking.

God, that had been too close. Too many close calls already. We need to end this now, before-

I catch the kid's fist before he can hit me again, and seizing the color of his shirt with my other hand, I fire up my thrusters to full blast. We shoot through the air, my suit taking the brunt of it as we crash through two more walls until we go skidding across the floor of the training gymnasium. Chunks of debris and shattered glass go flying across the floor with us in an explosion of sound.

I pull up, standing over him as I rear back my fist to slam into his temple and knock him out.

The kid seizes my forearm before my fist can connect with his body and slams it into the ground so fast, so hard, it drives me down to one knee. I look up just as his fist plows into the faceplate of my helmet, and my body goes flying back.

Landing hard on the polished cement floor, I can feel the metal plates scraping and sparking as I skid to a halt.

I fire up the thrusters in my palms, intending to push myself up quickly but before I can even think, a weight barrels into my chest, slamming me back down. The kid is crouched on top of me, his teeth bared, his black eyes flashing as he grips the base of my helmet and rips it off my head with a grunt of effort.

 _Shit_.

I can't activate the unibeam from the arc reactor in the chest of the suit. At this close range, it could kill him.

I reach up with both arms, activating the defibrillator in my palms, mentally apologizing for what I'm about to do. But before the electricity even comes close to making contact, he seizes both of my wrists, squeezing hard, violently, the armored plating crumpling, crushing my arms beneath his grip.

His fist slams into the side of my face. Again and again, each blow whiting out my vision and sending stabs of agony into my skull.

I turn my head to the side, spitting out blood as he suddenly pauses.

Time slows.

Looking up, my blood runs cold, and my heartbeat falters. Peter has a shard of glass in his hand the size of a large knife, and he raises it high above me.

Dazed, my head throbbing as my vision drifts in and out of focus, I hold up one shaking hand. "Kid," I choke on another mouthful of blood from where my teeth cut into my cheek. "Don't—"

There's nothing of Peter in those malicious black eyes, no sign of the dorky, big hearted teenager I'd come to know. Venom has either suppressed him so far down he can no longer surface, or the worst has happened, and the kid is gone.

For the briefest moment, I hope it's the latter.

I don't want the kid to see how he's going to kill me.

His lips curl back over his teeth, his expression savage, hungry for violence, for death. It looks so wrong on his young face.

The kid raises the glass shard higher, then brings it down.

I keep my eyes open, waiting for the blow to hit, for my life to end.

But it doesn't.

I flinch, my eyes widening as a metal arm seizes Peter's wrist inches before the tip of the razor sharp glass can pierce my throat, and yanks the kid off of me and onto his feet.

It's Barnes.

The Winter Soldier twists Peter's wrist sharply, and the kid hisses in pain as he is forced to drop the shard, which shatters into a million pieces when it hits the floor.

I can only stare in complete shock as the kid lashes out at Barnes, who easily catches his fist in his grip and returns a blow of his own, his face grim but intensely focused. My life had literally just flashed before my eyes, and Barnes had swooped in like some avenging angel.

I have never been so happy to see the son of a bitch in my life.

The pair are locked in an intense battle, Peter easily dodging Barnes's focused hits, but unable to land a strike on the man either. With a growl of frustration, a black web shoots from his wrist, wrapping its tendrils around the man's boot, and with a sharp yank, the kid pulls Barnes's feet right out from under him.

The Winter Soldier lands hard on his back, rolling as Peter drives his fist into the cement where he had just been. Barnes seizes the kid's wrist before he can straighten, moving behind him and wrapping his other arm around Peter's neck in a brutal choke hold.

Peter's hands shoot up to dig his fingers into Barnes's arm, but can't find a grip in the unyielding metal. The kid slams his foot into the man's shin hard enough that Barnes loses his stance, his arms loosening just slightly, enough for Peter to slip out and whirl, kicking hard at his chest. Barnes goes flying, and Peter fires off another black web.

But it doesn't connect with Barnes.

It wraps around a red, white, and blue shield.

The kid's dark eyes widen as Captain America stands from where he had dived into a defensive crouch in front of his fallen friend. He yanks his shield back, stepping back as he does so, the force pulling the kid forward. Cap runs to meet him, plowing his fist into Peter's chest and sending him slamming back into the wall.

Cap glances towards me, his face tight and worried, but a glance is all he can spare, because the kid is crawling up the wall he hit at a rapid pace, the spider seeking high ground. Steve takes a running start, winds his arm back, and throws his shield.

It spins, the light catching on the vibranium disk as it soars for the kid.

Peter pushes off the wall, performing an effortless backflip and sailing right over it as it drives into the cement and sticks, chunks of cement crumbling to the floor below.

My eyes follow the kid's body as he falls, his body upright once again. He brings his arm up, shooting a black web that attaches itself to the shield. Cap raises his forearm, the magnetic arm brace calling the shield back to him, and it lurches off the wall to soar back to him.

But impossibly, the kid had anticipated it. He holds onto the web still attached to the shield, using the momentum to swing wide, spinning with it as he hits Steve's chest feet first, knocking the Avenger off of his feet before he can grab his shield.

Peter lands in a crouch, immediately ducking as Barnes swings his fist at him.

Agony lances through my face, my head, as I roll onto my side with a groan, momentarily looking away from the fight to my damaged gauntlets. Luckily this time the kid hadn't broken my arms, but the damage done to the armor is significant, sparking wires poking through the metal plates.

Barnes yells out in pain, and my head shoots up to see him slam into the ground, Peter's hand around his throat. But Cap is charging at them, his shield now on his back as he drives his fist towards the teenager's face. Peter is forced to let go of Barnes, stepping back to avoid the blow, and Barnes uses his distraction to grab his ankle and yank him forwards at the same moment that Cap lands a brutal punch to the kid's gut.

I wince, the sight making every defensive instinct rise up within me, even though I know Steve has no choice.

Still the sight of Cap laying the kid out, not even trying to pull his punches, is a knife to my chest. We have to end this.

Pain is making my vision swim, but I force my eyes to focus as my slightly shaking left hand reaches for my other gauntlet. With a grunt, I pry off one of the damaged panels, tossing it to the side as my fingers touch the sparking wires.

I can hear shattering glass, the reverberating boom as someone is thrown bodily into a concrete pillar, the grunts of effort and groans of pain, but I don't look up, not even when Cap tries talking the kid down.

"Peter—you have to fight it!" I hear him grunt, as if he is grappling with him as he speaks. "Come on, kid-look at what you're doing!"

The kid lets out an animalistic sound, and then Steve cries out, and there's another crash.

Come on, come on. I clench my teeth as I yank out a now useless wire and reach for another. Come on!

"I thought—you said-gah!—saying his name worked, last time!" Cap says through his teeth, and I can hear the wisping sound of webs firing and connecting.  
Barnes lets out a grunt, and I can hear blows being exchanged. "It—did…Obviously—it's gotten—worse—"

I connect two frayed wires, and the disk shaped particle weapon in my right palm begins to glow, charging up.

Finally.

My head jerks up to see Cap on his hands and knees, trying to push himself up from what was undoubtedly a brutal blow.

The kid shoots off a black web, the tendrils at the end widening just before they attach to Cap's shield, and with a harsh yank, he rips it from Steve's back. Peter catches it, raising it up just as Barnes leaps down on him, bionic arm raised.

The impact of the metal fist meeting Cap's vibranium shield creates a deep, resounding noise that reverberates off the walls and rings in my ears.

The kid completely _loses_ it.

He drops the shield, staggering back, his hands clapped over his ears as he cries out in pain, his black eyes wide as he shudders violently.

For a moment, we all stare. It's the first sign of pain we've seen from him.

Barnes is the first to get back to himself. He stomps on the corner of the fallen shield, sending it flipping up into his hands.

Peter's face twists into a snarl as he lunges for the Winter Soldier.

Barnes slams his fist into the shield, his face stony, determined.

The kid yells, his hands flying back to his ears, and a chill races down my spine at the layered screams coming from his throat. One voice is clearly his, the other an inhuman shriek, high pitched and grating.

Cap is on his feet and racing for them as Barnes advances on the kid, ruthlessly beating against the shield like a drum.

The kid is panicking. He snarls as Cap nears, dropping his hands from his ears even though he can barely stand. Cap's fist soars for his face, and the kid barely manages to dodge it, his moves sloppy now instead of smooth and sleek.

Peter leaps for Steve, his fingers twisting into claws, the black suit finally emerging, spreading in an attempt to protect himself. It has become desperate. I realize that this is the first time the parasite has truly felt threatened, recognized the danger it is in.

Cap ducks low, then twists to the side to deliver a hard kick to the kid's ribs. The kid goes flying, his body hitting the floor and rolling. The clanging, sonorous sounds continue to fill the air, Barnes keeping up his barrage of noise.

The kid writhes in agony on the ground, his black eyes narrowed, teeth bared at Barnes as he stumbles to his feet. The suit is spread across half of his body, moving slowly, sporadically as it attempts to cover him, to protect.

He lunges for Barnes.

I raise up my gauntlet.

Shifting every ounce of the remaining power in my suit into the blast, I shoot off a repulsor beam straight at him. The kid's eyes widen briefly just before it slams into the center of his chest. He soars backwards, his back hitting the far wall and his head connecting with it with a loud crack before he crumples to the ground and doesn't move again.

Barnes tosses Cap his shield as Steve races for the kid. The Winter Soldier strides for me, reaching a hand down to help me to my feet, and I take it, my eyes unable to break away from Steve's kneeling form as he rolls the kid onto his back.

My breath halts in my chest, my heartbeat stuttering for a brief moment at the sight of the kid's unmoving form, and I'm racing for them, Barnes a half step behind me. Bile rises in my throat, burning my esophagus, clenching my stomach as I kneel on the kid's other side.

"He's alive," Steve tells me immediately, one of his hands resting on the kid's chest, and I see the steady rise and fall.

My shoulders slump, relief and exhaustion finally winning the internal war against my adrenaline.

I stare down at the kid's white face, his eyes shut, his lips slightly parted. Bruises are starting to bloom beneath his pasty skin, curling around his jaw, his forehead, his left eye. His chest is singed, the Black Sabbath logo completely burned from the shirt, the skin beneath it red and raw. The moment the kid's head hit the wall, the dark suit had halted its spread, retracting and disappearing beneath his skin as if it was never there.

Jesus Christ.

"We need to get him to the medical wing," Steve murmurs.

Why the hell does he have to look so goddamn young when he's unconscious? It isn't fair, and it only intensifies the raging guilt threatening to tear me into a billion pieces.

"Tony?"

I promised I would save him. I'd promised.

How many times am I going to fail this kid? How many times will I take advantage of his unwavering faith, his steadfast trust in me, only to let him down in the end?

 _I trusted you, and you weren't there._

 _You weren't there._

"Tony."

Steve's hand grips the metal plate covering my shoulder, giving me a shake, forcing me to drag my gaze away from the kid.

"No," I say, my voice like steel, even though inside I am shaking.

"No?" Steve's brow furrows in question.

"Not the medical wing," I look back down at Peter's face. "The holding cells on the lower level."

 _I trusted you, and you weren't there._

I wasn't there, kid. But I'm here now. And I'm going to get this thing out of you if it kills me.

* * *

 **A/N: So first off, I'd like to say, if the spacing in this ends up being weird on this. Fanfiction was glitching a lot, and I hopefully fixed it, but I can't be sure until it is posted, so hopefully it's fixed! If not, sorry!**

 **Second, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR OUTPOURING OF LOVE AND SUPPORT. I am so overwhelmed by the response to the last chapter. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Unfortunately in order to have time to upload this to the site, I won't have time to individually reply to your reviews on here. I'm sorry! You guys, the amount of reviews on the last chapter and the INSANELY WONDERFUL, BEAUTIFUL comments made my day, made my life! Particularly the ones that suggested I send this to Marvel, or that you read it multiple times, or that it was your favorite fanfiction ever?! Some nearly made me cry I was so incredibly grateful and humble. When I get back from my trip, I will try to send replies to all of you who have fanfic accounts at least and on the next chapter I will promise to reply to alllll of your reviews. I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO SO SO SO MUCH! BEST REVIEW SQUAD EVER! Words are not enough to gush about your reviews. Seriously.**

 **Third, sorry I didn't get this posted yesterday. I am leaving in six hours for my trip, and will be gone and unable to post until probably the 28th or 29th when I come back. So sorry for the cliffhanger! But at least I knocked out part one of the finale before I left!**

 **Fourth, SO MUCH LOVE AND THANKS TO PIPPINSTRANGE! You are the fangirl of all fangirls, and I am SO glad and grateful that you shared this journey with me. Guys, go read her fanfiction and send her allllll the love!**

* * *

 **I hope you all enjoyed this finale as much as the last chapter. I ADORED writing it, so I hope it lived up to your expectations.**

 **Coming up:**

 **Chapter Seventeen: What Child is This?**

 **Part two of the finale, a shorter but no less intense chapter. Tony is going to do whatever it takes to get Venom out of Peter. Whatever it takes.**

* * *

SERIOUSLY I'M SO SORRY I CAN'T INDIVIDUALLY REPLY TO YOUR INCREDIBLE REVIEWS. JUST KNOW I LOVE YOU AND I GIVE YOU THIS CHAPTER BEFORE I GO SO HOPEFULLY THAT MAKES UP FOR IT.

MUCH LOVE,

QUEEN


	17. What Child is This?

**Chapter Seventeen: What Child is This?**

 **May Parker**

I'm a reasonable woman.

I don't have high expectations or ridiculous ideas like 'life is fair' or that 'bad things don't happen to good people'. Only naive idiots believe in that kind of bullshit and are taken by surprise when life goes horribly wrong. Life has never been fair. And bad things happen to everyone, regardless of whether or not they are decent. I'm fully aware of how unfair life can be, of how shit tends to hit the fan right when you think life is going ok.

I've had more than my fair share of disaster, of grief, of loss.

It still doesn't stop me from trying to be a decent human being, or an adequate parental figure.

But I can't help but feel, in this moment, that the universe has a specific and cruel vendetta against me. Maybe because of that one time when my friend Barb and I were sixteen and stole those bras from the department store. Maybe because of the time I ditched class to go make out with Robert because he was a senior and gorgeous, and I was a lowly sophomore. Maybe because I wasn't there for my sister-in-law as much as I should have been, or because despite my best efforts, I am not adequate in the slightest when it comes to raising her child.

Jesus, I hate how dramatic I sound in my head. The whole 'the universe hates me' bit is something that should come from my fifteen year old nephew, not from a grown ass woman.

But I think under the circumstances, I'm allowed to be just a little dramatic.

Peter's face swims in my thoughts.

I can see him, the cold, violently angry stranger that emerged from the training room and lifted Tony Stark off of his feet by his effing throat, the lost little boy who murmured my name because he was so confused, because he was in so much pain.

My masochistic brain plays those moments again and again on repeat, until all I can hear are his screams of agony as I am being dragged away from him, screaming right back.

"Here."

I lift my face from where it had been hidden in my hands. The woman-had they told me her name? Damn it, I can't remember-is holding out a steaming mug, a sympathetic smile on her kind face.

I take it, the warmth emanating from the ceramic helping to ease the trembling of my hands. The soothing scents of peppermint and chamomile wash over me as the steam warms the skin of my face. I inhale deeply, hoping it will provide some measure of calm.

It doesn't.

Instead, I feel the tears well in my eyes for the millionth time in the past forty eight hours. Normally, I'd be mortified at the blubbering heap I have become, especially in front of strangers, but right now, I am so emotionally exhausted, all I can hold onto is the deep seated fear for my boy.

I clutch the mug tighter, taking a deep drink despite the near scalding temperature.

"Thank you," I croak. The woman tucks loose strands of her brown hair behind her ears and sits beside me. "You'll have to excuse me, but I don't remember your name."

I hate the sound of my voice. Hate it, because the last time it had taken that desolate, grieving tone, was when Ben had…

"Laura," the woman supplies kindly.

"Laura," I repeat. There's a shifting sound, and I look behind the couch to see Happy-what the hell kind of name is Happy, anyways? I've yet to see the man look even remotely cheerful-peek out the curtains of the window for the hundredth time since we arrived. I don't know what he expects to see besides a heap of snow and darkness.

He's developed a spastic sort of routine since the man with the bow and arrows-seriously? bow and arrows?-left the farm. He paces for awhile, checks the windows, and then-

Happy lifts his phone up, the blue light illuminating the tense lines of his face as he frowns down at it. Then he lets out a harsh sigh through his nose and shoves it back into his pocket to resume his pacing.

I'm torn. I want to snap at him to sit the hell down, to scold him for making my anxiety impossibly worse. But he's also my only line to Peter, the only way I can get any sort of update, any sort of word that he's alright...that he's going to be okay.

I turn back to Laura.

"You have...a lovely home," I manage hoarsely, trying to find some sort of semblance of my manners.

"Thank you," Laura replies. "I'm...sorry we had to meet under these circumstances."

"Me too," I reply dully, taking another drink of the tea. The truth is, I can't stand to look at anything around me. The sight of the Christmas tree with homemade ornaments, the stockings hung on the mantle, the bits of clutter and toys strewn about the floor...it makes my heart clench.

I suddenly notice the presents stuffed under the tree, the candy peeking out of the full, misshapen stockings, the plate covered with crumbs on the coffee table, and the empty cup beside it.

Oh god.

Oh my _god_.

Is it really-is it Christmas Eve?

Fresh tears slip from my eyes. God, I'm so sick of crying. My head and eyes ache from it. But there's no stopping it.

I should be home in my apartment right now. I should be trudging into the living room in my slippers and robe, yawning and inwardly grumbling about the late hour as I place Peter's presents under the tree. He's too old for Santa. Hasn't believed in him in years, and we both know that. But I can't help myself. It's one of the few ways I can hold onto him, one of the few ways I can still pretend he's still a little kid, and not the young man he is becoming.

And he puts up with it with that crooked smile of his as he comes out Christmas morning, rubbing those brown eyes of his and trying to look surprised as we both laugh about how big of a dork I am that I still play Santa.

I shouldn't be here, in a stranger's home, waiting for news that Peter is still alive, that the-the _thing_ inside of him hasn't-

A reassuring hand rests on my back, but I can't look up at Laura right now, can't stand the pitying expression I know must be on her face.

I've never been able to handle pity well.

Hadn't been able to take it when my husband's brother and wife had died, and I'd taken in their little boy as my own. Hadn't been able to take it when I lost Ben, and effectively became a single mother raising her nephew in New York City.

I hadn't been able to take it then, and I certainly wasn't going to now.

Because pity meant that there was something to grieve over. It meant something horrible had happened. It meant that I had lost something, or someone.

And I refuse. I _refuse_ to believe that after everything, I have lost Peter too.

I jump slightly in surprise as a cry suddenly breaks the tense silence. Laura lets out a small sigh and gives me a tight, apologetic smile when I give her a questioning look.

"Nathaniel," she answers as she rises from the couch. "Still can't get him to sleep through the night. My other two have always been good sleepers, but not him."

"Peter," I have to pause for a moment to clear my throat. "Peter was never a sleeper either. My sister-in-law tried everything. Literally. Every old wives tale and parenting tip she could get her hands on. You know what worked?"

Laura shakes her head.

"The vacuum."

"The...vacuum?"

I nod, blinking back more tears. "She'd turn it on in the hallway, and the white noise would put him right to sleep."

"That's one I haven't tried," Laura smiles at me, squeezing my shoulder. "Thank you."

I listen to her muffled footsteps as she ascends the stairs, and look back once again at Happy, who's returned to his post at the window. He reaches again for his phone.

My anxiety raises several notches, and the thin tether that is my patience finally snaps. "For god's sake, just sit down!" I hiss, keeping my voice low to avoid waking the children sleeping upstairs.

Happy jumps at my voice, and with large eyes, sits on the nearest armchair.

My instinct is to apologize immediately for my outburst, but I swallow that back. Because I am still beyond pissed at this man, who dragged me away while my boy was writhing in pain on the ground, who'd manhandled me into a car and locked the doors while I beat at the divider separating us and screamed until I had no voice.

I narrow my eyes at him, and he swallows.

If...god, I can't believe I'm thinking about this...if the worst happens, and that was the last time I got to see my nephew… if he had deprived me of saying goodbye, of offering that boy the comfort he desperately needed...if he told me one more time that it was for my own fucking safety…

Happy opens his mouth, and I immediately recognize the look in his eyes, the 'I'm sorry, but it was for your own good' followed by the 'he'll be okay, I just know it'. My lips press in a thin line, and I swear a growl rumbles in my chest, and then Happy promptly closes his mouth.

It's the first smart thing he's done all night.

I hate this.

I hate sitting here, useless, waiting and wondering if Peter is ok, if he's hurting, if he's…

The only way, I decide suddenly, that I will forgive Tony Stark for all of this, is if he gets that parasite out of my boy. If Peter gets out of this in one piece, if he's healed and alien free and back to himself at the end, then, and only then, will Tony get my forgiveness.

I can't bear to think about the alternative.

Happy and I sit there silently, both of us tense and worried and anxious. Distantly, I hear Laura's footsteps upstairs, and the quiet hum of the vacuum. After a few minutes, Nathaniel's crying quiets.

The silence is broken by a phone vibrating, and Happy's eyes widen as he fumbles for it, nearly dropping the damn thing, before he raises the phone to his ear. "Go for Happy," he says quickly.

I'm on my feet, my heart in my throat and my stomach in horribly tangled knots.

Happy's face pales, and when his round eyes meet mine, my fingers go slack, and the mug I'm holding shatters onto the floor.

* * *

 **Peter Parker**

Everything _hurts_.

I wake with a groan, my hand shooting up to grip my chest before I can even open my eyes. Hissing, my hand jerks away from the raw, blistered flesh beneath the tatters of my shirt.

What the hell _happened_?

I can tell my chest is heavily bruised beneath the burn without looking down at it, every expansion of my lungs sending waves of pain across my body. Pain throbs at the base of my skull, my muscles and joints aching like I've been pummelled.

God, why is it so _hot_?

I'm never hot, haven't even been _warm_ in weeks. What the hell?

I am drenched in sweat, my clothes sticking to me uncomfortably, pressing in too tight, constricting around my heat swollen skin. My heart begins to accelerate, unease coiling in my gut as my body begins to shake beneath the onslaught of fevered chills shivering down my spine that raise goose bumps across my skin.

I open my eyes.

"Hey, kid."

I am in…a cell? I push myself to my feet, a hand raised to my aching head, spinning slowly as I take in the three white walls, the bright red lights lining the top of them emitting a searing, unpleasant heat, and the fourth and final wall, made of thick, ballistic glass. Mr. Stark stands just behind it, his arms folded over his t-shirt, a cut from his temple leaking blood down the side of his head, his bruised face grim.

What the _hell_?

"M-Mr. Stark? What's going on?" I eye him warily. "Why...why am I in here?"

"Sorry, kiddo. Had to put you in time-out," Mr. Stark says without humor.

Sweat drips down the back of my neck, and I have to resist the urge to pull at the collar of my ruined shirt. "Okay…Real funny, Mr. Stark. When they said you had an eccentric sense of humor, I didn't believe them, but I see it now. Can you let me outta here?"

"Yeah, that's gonna have to be a no," he replies, and I take in the tension lining his body, the whorl of emotions in his dark eyes, the clench of his jaw.

Holy shit. He's serious.

"Seriously, c'mon. This isn't funny anymore," I say, my heart rate rising with every breath. Did it just get even hotter in here? "Let me out."

"No."

"Why are you doing this? What did I do?" I demand, coming close enough to press my hands against the warm glass.

"It's for your own good, this hurts me more than it hurts you, you'll understand someday when you're older…How am I doing with these?" Mr. Stark sighs wearily, and he suddenly looks so old. Worn, like there's a massive weight pressing down on him.

When he speaks again, his voice is choked with emotion, and that scares me more than anything else. "I'm sorry, kid. More than you know. But this is the only way I know how to help you."

"Help me? Help me how?" I ask incredulously. I make my eyes plead with him. "Mr. Stark, whatever it is, whatever I did, I- I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise! I'll do whatever you want me to do, just please, let me out of here. Please."

For a moment, I think he will relent. My words seem to cause him genuine pain, his features softening slightly as he looks at me with such remorse, such pity.

"Don't do this to me, Tony. Let me go."

The sympathy and regret I see in his expression vanish abruptly as his eyes harden, and then there is nothing there but resolve and rage.

"No."

"Let. Me. Out."

Mr. Stark's body shifts, like he's about to turn away from me, and I snarl, slamming both hands against the glass in a move that should have shattered it. "Let me out!"

He doesn't even flinch, just continues to stare at me. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., turn up the heat."

My hands ball into fists as I bear down upon the glass with every ounce of my strength. It doesn't even splinter. I hit it again, and again, letting out a roar of frustration as my continued assault does nothing. _Nothing_.

I have to get out-I have to get out-

The temperature rises, the red lights getting brighter, hotter, becoming unbearable, and my insides are constricting with panic. "Let me OUT! LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

My eyes catch movement behind Tony, and I realize we aren't alone. My gaze flits from person to person, and can't help the stab of utter betrayal that I feel. They are bruised and battered, their grim, determined faces matching Tony's hardened expression. They're all here, my heroes, the ones who should be on my side, should be protecting _me_...

I turn my attention to Captain America as he comes forward to place a steady hand of support on Tony's shoulder.

"Steve. Steve, _please_ ," my voice cracks, and I let my eyes grow wet. His jaw tightens. "Please, you gotta get me out of here. It's- it's too hot. It hurts. Please."

"I'm sorry, Peter."

"Guys," I turn my pleading gaze to Natasha-who promised me...something, didn't she? promised to help me- then to Scott and Clint and Sam beside her. They keep their expressions the same, all except Scott, who pales, his eyes dropping to the floor as his lips press tightly together. I can barely swallow, my mouth and throat have become so dry. My body begins to shake. "Guys, please, I'll do anything! Just let me out! PLEASE!"

They say nothing.

Movement shifts behind them, and my gaze zeroes in on the figure. "Bucky-don't...don't let them-please."

Blue eyes harden as they stare back at me, my rage, my desperation growing too rapidly for me to control.

The heat rises, searing my skin, and I can't take it, can't bear it a second longer.

I let out another desperate snarl as I slam my entire body against the glass. I stagger back, my chest heaving as insurmountable panic constricts my lungs and pushes my heart rate to a million beats per second. I can't breathe, can't think beyond my desperation to get out, to get away from the heat.

I turn away from the glass wall, slamming my fist as hard as I can into one of the walls. Pain lances through my knuckles, the skin tearing, bones cracking as I lunge for another wall.

I leap up, my hands latching onto it so I can propel myself into the glass, but I cry out as the heat sears the skin of my palms and fingertips, forcing me to drop back to the ground. I don't even give the blistering skin a second glance as I charge again for the glass wall.

"You're...no better…" I rasp between heaving breaths, between slamming myself against the barrier. "No better...than the ones...who did this to me!"

The heat is choking me, and I no longer have the breath to speak, to even gasp out one word. I glare fiercely at Tony with all the hate I can muster as I claw at the barrier separating us. He stares back and might as well be made of stone.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., do it now," he orders, his voice harder than vibranium.

Sonic waves blast from the walls, from the ceiling, slamming into my body before I can even blink. I clamp my damaged hands over my ears, staggering back and falling to my knees. The vibrations pound against my body, pushing through my skin and slamming against my bones in an unending barrage of pain.

Screams rip from my throat as I collapse onto my back, my hands pressing as tightly as I can push them against my ears as I writhe in agony. Wave after wave hits me, the vibrations like the bass in a speaker that's been blasted past its capabilities, like the ultrasonic, high-pitched screeching that no human ears should be able to hear, all blasting into me with the force of a nuclear explosion.

My insides are vibrating, contracting, bursting from the pain of it, and I know that I am dying, that this pain will kill me.

I roll onto my front and push off the floor onto my hands and knees. My body seizes suddenly, and then I can't breathe as my stomach contracts violently. I begin vomiting, heaving over and over and over as black sludge surges up my throat and splatters onto the floor beneath me.

I was wrong before.

 _This_ is the pain that will kill me.

The heat, the bombardment of sonic waves, they are _nothing_ compared to the utter agony I am feeling as my insides rip themselves apart. I can't get in a breath, not the tiniest bit of air as I expel what must look like a fountain of black ink. I'm coughing, choking, gagging on it as my lungs burn. I am ripping in two, I am exploding from the inside out.

Then it is gone. My body is empty, hollow, and trembling as I gasp in the still too hot air, hacking and spitting out the final dredges of the black muck that remain in my mouth.

I collapse onto my side, weaker than an infant, unable to even continue pressing my hands against my ears to protect them against the sonic waves. I feel like someone just tore out all of my bones, my muscles, and there is nothing left of me but a husk.

I blink my heavily watering eyes, the movement much harder than it should be, and stare at the puddle of darkness beside me. It is writhing, ropes and tendrils of it shuddering and shrieking as it rises from the floor in a growing, tremoring mass.

I can do nothing but watch it in horror, my body too weak to move even as terror cinches around my heart. I swear I can see a face forming within the pitch-black horde; a face with raging eyes and a mouth full of fangs. It shudders like it is in great pain.

Then it surges for me, the movement jerky and desperate. Icy tendrils of black brush against the skin of my face-

-it shrieks loudly as a smaller barrage of sonic waves slam into it from behind, blasting it away from me. The vibrations pound into it, keeping it pinned and undulating in agony on the floor.

It's Mr. Stark, a crimson and gold arm guard encircling his palm, wrist, and forearm, the sonic waves emitting from the center of his hand as he drives it into the corner of the cell. The lights within the cell cast a deep, red glow across him, and I have never seen his face so enraged, so full of violent hate.

Strong hands slip under me, seizing me beneath my armpits as I am hurriedly dragged out of the cell. I am halfway through the now opened glass barrier when another tendril shoots out and wraps around my ankle, constricting sharply. I am yanked back, almost slipping out of the grip of the one holding my upper body before they seize me tighter.

Muffled shouts erupt around me, but I can barely hear them over the ringing in my ears, the pulsing beat of the sonic waves still echoing in my head.

Both sides are pulling, the rope of inky black on my leg constricting tighter and tighter. I gasp sharply, grunting in pain through clenched teeth as the two forces threaten to tear me in two, and I think wildly that I have become a human rope in a violent game of tug-of-war.

The throbbing, pulsing beat suddenly increases in volume, sending a stab of pain through my head, but the grip on my ankle is suddenly gone, and I am being dragged backwards again.

The moment I am free of the glass, chilled air blasts into me, and I inhale it greedily, desperately. I become aware of how badly I am shaking as my upper body is eased back onto the floor.

I finally have enough breath to speak, and the words tumble from my hoarse throat. "I'm sorry I-I'm sorry- I'm _so_ sorry-"

It becomes an endless chant, an infinite stream of apologies pouring from my tongue, and I can't seem to make myself stop. My vision is blurred with hot tears as faces crowd above me. They are speaking to me, but I can't make out the words, can't hear them over the ringing in my ears. Even my own voice is muffled, like I am underwater. I think then, that maybe the sonic waves that had blasted into my body have damaged my eardrums, and wonder if my healing abilities will be able to fix that.

"I'm sorry," I say, my shame and guilt so profound, it tastes metallic on my tongue, presses my already weakened body further down to the floor. I can remember everything, _everything_. And I...I-"I'm _sorry_."

The faces around me draw back, and then there is just one looking down at me, his eyes wide, his expression tight with what might be panic. His lips are moving, but I can't hear him.

Somehow, I find strength enough to reach one trembling hand to grip the hem of his shirt. Darkness is edging in on my vision, and I don't know if I will come back this time. And he has to know….he has to know-

"I'm sorry," I tell him as his face gets harder and harder to see. "Mr. Stark, I'm sorry."

And then I drift away into the darkness.

* * *

 **Tony Stark**

The wall of ballistic glass slides shut with a resounding thud, and I watch as the parasite shrinks in on itself in the corner, shrieking and writhing in obvious distress.

Good.

I hope it suffers for a long time. I hope its death is slow and agonizing and horrible.

A half second is all I give myself to make sure Venom is not going anywhere before I am whirling, lunging for the crowd kneeling around the kid on the ground. They part without me having to say anything, and then I hear exactly what Peter is mumbling.

"I'm sorry," he gasps weakly, his skin still void of color, his eyes-his mercifully brown eyes-are flooded with tears that spill down the side of his face into his hair. "I'm _sorry_."

I kneel beside him even as I feel like a fist has reached inside of me and clenched around my heart. He's apologizing. Jesus Christ, he's actually _apologizing_ right now.

"Hey, _hey_!" I put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, the other reaching to press against his neck, noticing his dwindling, weak pulse with alarm. "Stop that apologizing for a second so you can breathe, ok?"

That's when I see the blood in his ears. Shit. His eardrums were obviously damaged from the soundwaves. I lean over to make sure he can see me, to make sure he can read my lips, even while he keeps choking out apologies like his life depends on it.

"We did it, kid, we got it out. It's done, and you're going to be ok," I move one hand to the side of his face, trying to get him to focus on me, to hear me.

His glazed eyes drift towards me, as if he suddenly realizes I am there, and his fingers curl weakly to grip the front of my shirt. The look in his eyes, the naked grief and shame shining there nearly cripples me.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, his gaze unfocusing. "Mr. Stark, I'm sorry."

His hand falls away, and he just stares.

It takes me a full second to realize, to realize-

I'm lunging forward just as strong hands wrench me away. I can't tear my eyes away from Peter's face, his lips parted, his eyes staring, unseeing.

I'm fighting against the grip pulling me back, fighting with all my useless strength, before I remember I am wearing a wrist gauntlet and whirl on them wildly, raising my hand and powering up my repulsor.

"Tony!" Steve raises his hands, taking a step back as I aim my palm at his chest. "Let Sam help."

I turn, my entire body coiled with tension to see Sam crouched over Peter, the heels of his hands stacked together on the center of his chest, his arms locked straight as he pushes hard in rhythmic compressions.

Steve's hand is on my shoulder, and I don't have to look at him to know that his mouth is set in a grim line. "Let Sam help," he murmurs again, his fingers gripping my shoulder tighter. "He knows what he's doing."

It takes everything in me to remain still, to stand by instead of fighting my way through to the kid and doing it myself. But I know...I know that Sam can do more for Peter right now than I can. And that thought kills me.

So I stand there.

And I watch.

Watch as the kid's chest jerks beneath the weight of Sam's precise compressions. Watch the still wet tears rolling into his hair. Watch those glassy eyes, fixed on some point on the ceiling. .

Watch, because I think I've just failed him again, for the final time.

" _I was just trying to be like you."_

" _And I wanted you to be better."_

Sam leans over him, blowing air into his unresponsive lungs.

" _H-hey, Mr. Stark. I'm sorry to bother you, I mean, I know you are probably busy. But...but I think...I think I'm being followed. And they don't really look like your typical New Yorkers looking for an easy hit...It might be nothing, I can probably handle it, but I-"_

Sam returns to his compressions, one, two, three, four, five, six-

" _H-hey. What...took you...so long?"_

Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen-

" _They p-put something inside of me...something alive...God, I can...I can still f-feel it."_

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty-

" _Sometimes...sometimes I wish I had kept going. Sometimes, I wonder...i-if I would have been better off…"_

Blank eyes, ashen skin, blue lips.

" _You weren't there. I trusted you, and you didn't come. You. Weren't. There."_

I'd saved him. I'd saved him over and over and over again, but every damn time, I managed to be too late.

Too late.

And now…

Now he's...

Steve's grip tightens. There's a whirlwind of activity around us, but I can't take any of it in. It has become impossible to breathe, and I feel like I'm falling...falling…

Peter gasps, a rasping, wheezing sound that is so faint, I barely hear it. His eyes flutter shut, and I stagger forward as Sam pants, "We need to get him to medical. Now."

Barnes is already there, scooping him up like the kid weighs nothing, and I swallow back the sharp, defensive demand forming on my lips. My hands are shaking too badly, my limbs feeling too much like jell-o to be able to carry the kid's weight.

So instead I follow close behind, shouting orders at F.R.I.D.A.Y. to prep the medical wing and alert the faculty and medical team to return to the facility immediately.

Even as I do so, I can't take my eyes off the sweat slicked brown hair I can see past Barnes's form, the pale arm dangling limply at his side.

He's alive, I tell myself. He's alive and it's gone and he still stands a chance.

He's alive.

It doesn't matter how many times I repeat those words in my head.

Nothing will erase the image of the kid lying lifeless on the ground.

* * *

The dial tone rings loudly as I press the phone tighter to my ear. It only sounds off once before Happy's strained voice answers.

"Go for Happy."

"It's done. We got it out," I reply, the words strangely heavy on my tongue.

There's a distant crash of shattered glass on the other end of the line.

"What was that?" I demand sharply, my mind already racing with the thought of another attack-

"Nothing. She dropped a mug. It's fine," Happy assures me.

"Put May on, and start the car. Bring her back here."

There's a split second of muffled sound before May's breathless reply. " _Hello_? Tony? Where's Peter? Is he-? Is he okay?"

"We got it out of him," I answer, my eyes tracing the lines of the white tiled floor below me. It would be so easy to lie, to tell her that it had been simple, that he's completely ok and already sitting up chatting about Star Wars. But I'd learned my lesson. I was never lying to May about her nephew again. "Venom took control, put up quite a fight before we were able to contain him and remove it. It...it wasn't easy. Peter got banged up in the process. And after we got it out, his heart stopped."

May's sharp, hitching inhale is a fresh knife to my gut, accompanied by the images burned into my retinas. I hurry to continue. "We were able to resuscitate him. He's in medical now with a full team of doctors and nurses working on him. The parasite did a number on his body when it was forced out, but the doctors are confident that with Peter's healing abilities he will make a full recovery."

She makes a sort of whimpering sound accompanied by a ragged sigh, and then there's a loud thump.

My eyes widen, thinking for a moment that she had fainted, but then she says in a choked voice, "Thank _god_. He's really...he's going to be okay? Peter's going to be okay?"

"Yes," I say as firmly as I can, as if saying it out loud will help convince me as well.

The kid's alive.

He's alive, and the parasite is completely gone from his system, locked away where it can never get out again, and the kid is going to make a full recovery.

All of his doctors and nurses had assured me of the same thing before they'd finally insisted that I leave the room so they could tend to him properly.

They'd shown me the scans and reports to prove it.

It was still nearly impossible to believe that this nightmare was really over.

"Is it dead?" May's voice is quiet, vicious as she asks the question, and her tone nearly sends a chill down my spine.

I swallow. "No."

Before she can growl at me, I add, "We don't know if it can be destroyed. It's extremely weak from being removed from its host and the attack we kept up on its system afterwards, but so far we've been unable to kill it."

"I want it dead."

"Believe me, so do I. Until we can figure out a way to do so, we're taking every precaution to make sure it doesn't so much as see another human being. It's not going anywhere. The President of the United States will wish he had as much security."

A pause, then, "Fine. For now. I don't want that thing anywhere near my boy. _Ever_. Until you're able to get rid of it. And I want to be there when you do. Are we clear on that?"

"Crystal."

"Good."

"Happy's bringing you back to the compound. The doctors should be done working on Peter by the time you get here."

May lets out another breath. "Mr. Sta-Tony. _Thank you_."

I open my mouth to tell her the last thing I deserve is anything that resembles thanks, but she continues.

"But if you ever pull that shit on me again, if you have your people manhandle me away from my nephew again, a slap to the face is the least I will do to you."

"Duly noted."

I hang up the phone.

For the first time in days, my adrenaline levels finally taper down, and exhaustion hits me like a wrecking ball. My stomach is still in knots, and my thoughts continue their anxious trek, just without the heart thumping energy that's been accompanying them.

If I wasn't already sitting down on the bench outside of the room Peter is in, I probably would have collapsed onto the floor. I let my head fall back against the wall as I close my eyes.

I frown.

I don't hear anyone enter the hall, but I swear I can just sense his broody stare without even opening my eyes.

"I don't know if it's an old timey thing, or an 'I was a mind controlled villian for too long' thing, but staring at someone without announcing yourself like some kind of creeper is generally frowned upon," I mutter.

Barnes snorts, and then I hear him ease down onto the bench next to me.

"Shouldn't you be with the others, getting your injuries looked at?" I ask, though I could honestly care less.

"Shouldn't you?"

I roll my eyes beneath my closed eyelids.

Barnes says, "I'm fine."

I crack open one eye to look at him, and his gaze is fixed on Peter's door.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Barnes gives me a look that clearly says, 'what the hell do you think?'

Whatever. It's fine. If he wants to sit there and stare at the door, it's fine. I don't care. I'm too tired to care.

Minutes pass. Barnes stares at the door. I keep my heavy eyelids closed.

Finally, I break the silence. "I'm tired of telling you, thank you. This is the last time, got it? We aren't making a habit out of this."

After a moment, Barnes simply replies, "You're welcome."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm baaaaack!**

 **Back from my vacation to beautiful Mexico! I had a blast, so thank you to everyone who wished me a good time on my trip! Sorry you guys had to wait over a week for this chapter! Hopefully it was worth the wait!**

 **I'm going to reply to all the reviews for chapter sixteen here, and hopefully tomorrow if I can, I will reply to the reviews for fifteen because you guys were SO sweet and SO encouraging and I felt bad I didn't have time to reply properly on the last chapter.**

 **HUGE thanks to the best beta ever, who I missed ever so much during my trip, PippinStrange! You have truly been an encouragement and unbelievable support and super genius throughout all of this! Thank you for all that you do! (You guys should go check out her fics, they are absolute Spider-GOLD)**

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 **I can't emphasize enough how much your reviews mean to me. The sheer volume and quality of them astounds me. Thank you for your patience and well wished this past week!**

 **Also YES! To all of you who caught Eddie's name, his full name is Eddie Brock, and it is in reference to the other known host for Venom in the comics and movie and shows. I put him in there to keep it open for a third installment should I decide to write it someday. :) You guys are so smart! I love it!**

 **I still can't believe how close we are to the end.**

 **Guys...only two chapters left. :O I can't believe it. And I'm actually kind of sad about it as well as excited to have finished it. I do hope to write more Spiderman/Avengers fanfiction! Especially once I've seen Infinity War! The inspiration that will come from that will no doubt be explosive!**

 **Anyways...**

 **COMING UP:**

 **Chapter Eighteen: White Christmas**

 **It's Christmas day, and Venom is finally gone for good from Peter's body. Recovery, much needed conversations, holiday comfort, fluff, and feels as we head into part one of the final wind down chapters.**


	18. White Christmas

**Chapter Eighteen: White Christmas**

 **Peter Parker**

I'm warm.

I am toasty warm. Pleasantly, _wonderfully_ warm. It feels like...like coming in from the snow and taking a big drink of hot tomato soup while sitting as close as possible to the fireplace. Like...basking in the sun on a perfect Spring day, lying in the grass in a patch of sunlight, the rays heating my skin and lulling me to sleep.

Or, even better…my mind's eye takes me to one of the beach trips I took with Aunt May and Ned to Rockaway beach. It had been pretty crowded, but we had found a clear spot not too far from the water and laid down our towels.

I remember May pulling out a book and some headphones, her effective way of making sure she was left alone, and me watching the hopeful faces of some of the nearby guys fall with disappointment. Ned and I had shared smirks before racing down the sand into the absolutely freezing water.

I remember coming back, drenched and shaking out my sopping wet hair as May shrieked at me and hit me with her water bottle while Ned laughed. And then I'd plopped myself down on my towel and laid there while the bright sun slowly dried the cold water from my body and warmed my skin.

May had poked me with her sand covered foot and warned me that I needed to put on more sunscreen, but the warmth had been too soothing, and my eyes had been too heavy, and I had dozed off to the sound of crashing waves, the din of people laughing and talking, and the cries of the seagulls.

Please, I think suddenly, desperately. _Please_ let me be at the beach. Let me be sprawled out on my towel next to May and Ned, my skin burning because I hadn't listened to May's warning about sunscreen.

Let me have just fallen asleep in the sun. Let everything just be a vivid, horrific nightmare that I will tell Ned about when I open my eyes, and we will laugh and run back into the water to cool off. Let none of it have actually happened.

Let me be at the beach.

Please, please, _please_.

I don't think I've wished for anything harder in my life.

"Kid?"

My stomach starts to sink, but I seize the visualization of my sunny afternoon in the sand with both hands, refusing to let it go just yet. If I concentrate hard enough, I can smell May's coconut scented sunscreen and the Doritos Ned just pulled from his backpack.

"Kid, you awake? You seem like you're awake."

That's Mr. Stark's voice. It totally makes sense for Mr. Stark to be on the beach with Ned and May and me. Totally. Nothing weird about that. And his voice is muffled. Muffled like...am I underwater? Maybe I am underwater and he's trying to get me to come out.

"Do me a favor, Pete, and open those eyes for me. Or twitch your fingers. Give me something."

"Shhhh," I hush finally, squeezing my eyelids closed even tighter.

I'm on the beach. I'm on the beach. I'm on the-

"Did you just-did you _actually_ just shush me?"

I'm tempted to do so again.

"You're ruining it," I mumble, my delusions beginning to slip away faster than a receding wave.

"Ruining what, exactly?"

I let out a heavy sigh, and reluctantly crack open my eyes.

Damn it.

I am most definitely _not_ at the beach.

"No, you're not. As pale as you are, I would recommend avoiding direct sunlight for a good while. You'd fry faster than the fish and chips at the Blue Water Grill on 31st."

Huh. Had I said that last part out loud?

I close my eyes again, the light making them burn. My ears are ringing slightly, and I can feel something soft and thick pressed against them...wrapped...around them?

"What's-why're my ears-?"

Mr. Stark's voice, still slightly muffled, replies. "Had some damage to your eardrums, kiddo. I'm surprised you can hear anything at all right now. It's good, means they were probably the first thing to start healing."

I open my eyes again and blink a few times, my eyes adjusting to lights before I drag my gaze around the room. I'm lying on a semi-comfortable bed in one of the medical rooms, and Mr. Stark is standing beside me, his hands gripping the railing to the right of my bed.

Frowning, I look up at his face, at the butterfly bandage at his temple, at the bruises marring his jaw, at the lines creasing around his eyes and across his forehead, at the dark circles that might be black eyes.

"Woah," I say, before I can stop myself.

His eyebrows knit together, creating more lines. "Woah? Woah, what?"

"You look awful, Mr. Stark," I tell him honestly. "Like...woah. Really bad. Shit. Am I still talking out loud? Or in my head?"

Mr. Stark gives me an exasperated look. "Yeah, that would be out loud. And I wouldn't be commenting on my looks if I were you. At least until you look in the mirror. On the shit scale, I'm more like a four, and you're a ten."

"Isn't...being a ten a good thing? MJ said I was a solid seven once."

"Not on the looks like shit scale, kid."

"Oh."

"How do you feel?"

I slowly look down at the rest of me, noting the bandages across my chest and my hands, the bruises peeking out beneath the sleeves of my shirt. The rest of me is hidden beneath blankets.

"Huh," I say again.

"You wanna elaborate on that?"

"I think...am I...high? I think I'm high," I blink at him a few times. "I feel funny."

Mr. Stark snorts. "Higher than a kite, kid. Which is good. You'd be feeling a hell of a lot worse with your injuries without the good stuff they're pumping into you."

"Want some?" I offer. He looks like he could use some of the good stuff too.

He shakes his head, his lips twitching like he's fighting a smile or a laugh. "No thanks, kid. I'm good."

I disagree. He doesn't look good. But I don't want to insult him. Again.

"I'm sorry," The words come out before I even remember thinking them, like they've been waiting for me to open my mouth so they could escape. "I am...so so so sorry. Unbelievably sorry. I'm-"

"Stop," Mr. Stark orders suddenly, his voice so stern and eyes so fierce, I clamp my mouth shut with an audible snap. "Just...stop."

I stare at him as he removes one of his hands from my bed's railing to rub at his eyes. I'm aware of a horrible sinking feeling in my gut, accompanied by a rush of hot, prickling nerves that swarm beneath my skin like a flock of bees. Wait, a flock? That's not right. Herd? No, that's horses. Cattle. Colony! Like a colony of bees.

Somehow, the struggle to mentally describe my feelings has made the feelings even _worse_. Like the colony of bees have created an entire hive and are swarming angrily, buzzing and stinging and god, they're so _loud_. My breath is coming out through my nose in short, quick bursts, and I feel impossibly heavy, like all my limbs, but most of all my freaking _chest_ , have been replaced with vibranium in my sleep.

Mr. Stark is leaning forward, his brown eyes worried as he says, "Woah, hey. Take it easy."

But looking at his face makes my stomach twist and tighten because I…

I did that.

I did that to him.

I...oh my god...I-

"Kid-"

"I remember," I blurt out, my voice wavering as my eyes begin to burn. "I...I remember _everything_."

His face is pained, grim, and I can't help but recall how it looked when my hand was around his throat, when I'd told him all those horrible things, when I pinned him down and tore off his helmet and...and…

Oh _god-_

Pain bursts across my chest, and I inhale sharply, glancing down to where Mr. Stark's hand is splayed across my sternum, lightly pressing against my bandages.

"I did this," Mr. Stark says forcefully, his eyes blazing. He is barely putting any pressure, but I can still feel the burning, aching pain from his touch that not even the drugs I'm on can dull. The pain...grounds me. Centers me. Mr. Stark speaks again, and I am suddenly hyper-focused on his words. "I did this. To you. I shot you with the maximum capacity of my repulsor beams. Remember that?"

Eyes wide, I nod and realize one my hands is gripping his wrist just above where his hand rests against my wounded chest.

"Do you know what the difference is? Between what I did to you, and what you did to me?"

I shake my head.

"I was entirely aware of and in control of my actions. I knew _exactly_ what I was doing when I shot you. When I fought you. When I locked you in that cell and blasted your body with heat and sound wave levels that stopped your heart."

Stopped my...heart?

"I knew, kid. I chose," Mr. Stark presses down ever so slightly before removing his hand, leaving a dull, aching throb in my chest. "You didn't. Your choice got taken away from you the day you got nabbed by Hydra. You still want to play the apology game?"

He leans back. "Alright, I'll play. But buckle up kiddo, because I don't like to lose. _I'm_ sorry. I didn't get there in time to prevent you from being kidnapped. It took me too long to get to that Hydra base," Mr. Stark holds up his fingers, counting down his seemingly well practiced list. "I couldn't stop them from injecting you with Venom. I couldn't get it out of you. I stopped Helen when she was onto something, when she might have been able to remove it sooner, because I was too worried about how it was affecting you. I lied to your aunt, I denied you her support instead of telling her the truth in the first place. I didn't stop Venom before it took over and controlled you. And… I'm sorry for what I had to do to get it out."

Mr. Stark takes a sharp breath, and I realize with no small amount of horror that his eyes are glassy as he looks away from me, and his voice is gruff. "I'm sorry I broke your trust. I'm sorry that I.." he pauses to clear his throat. "that I failed you, and that I wasn't there when you needed me. I'm sorry I am the world's _shittiest_ mentor, and that my attempts to fix my mistakes only made them worse. Kid...sorry doesn't even _begin_ to cut it. Not for me."

My cheeks are wet, and I can't stop staring at him, stunned into silence at his admission.

"So you see?" he clears his throat again and blinks a few times before meeting my eyes. "I win. I always do. You don't get to apologize for my failings. No way am I letting you take credit for that. Nice try though. And you also don't get to apologize for things out of your control."

I swallow and watch him for a long moment, his words slowly sinking into my muddled brain. My bandaged hand moves to press gently against my burned and bruised chest.

"Should I take your silence as your declaration of defeat in the apology game?" Mr. Stark finally asks.

"I see two of you," I admit.

Mr. Stark lets out a short laugh of disbelief and shakes his head. "I don't know if I should be relieved or disappointed that you probably won't remember any of this. Probably disappointed. Now I'm going to have to repeat all that when you're coherent."

"You're wrong."

"About having to repeat myself? I highly doubt that. You are beyond stoned."

"No...I mean, I mean…" What do I mean? It's so hard to form coherent thoughts right now.

"You didn't...fail me. You never did. That's...dumb," my brows furrow together as I try to focus on his form. "I wouldn't even _be_ here...if it wasn't for you. Alive. I wouldn't-"

Ugh, why is it so hard to say what I'm trying to say?

"You're wrong," I say again, frowning. That's all I can figure out. "You're wrong, and if I shouldn't apologize for-for all the _horrible_ things I did, then neither should you."

And I think it's the drugs, but I could swear there is something like...fondness in his expression. Mr. Stark opens his mouth, and I think he's going to argue so I hold up my hand, or rather, I try to. It sort of just jerks and falls back on the bed.

"Shhh," I say instead.

"Okay, this shushing thing? Has got to stop. I am not a fan."

"You're going to be dumb again, and I can't...think straight."

"You're a mean drunk."

I blink. "I'm drunk?"

"Jesus Christ. I should not have tried to have this conversation until you were weaned off a bit," Mr. Stark shakes his head, but one of the corners of his mouth is twitching up like he might smile.

I swallow thickly, realizing suddenly how thirsty I am. My throat is bone dry, and when I briefly close my eyes, I see nothing but red, red, _red-_

I'm choking on my own air, coughing and wheezing as my body cringes beneath the phantom heat spreading across my skin. And then there's a hand on my back, easing me forward as something presses against my lips. A small amount of cool water eases into my mouth and I swallow it greedily.

"You good?" Mr. Stark asks as he pulls away the cup before I'm ready.

"Is it-" my voice comes out in a strained rasp. I swallow before trying again. "Is it _gone_?"

I can't feel it. Can't feel even a speck of ice. Can't feel the faintest throb of a second pulse in my chest. Can't feel a hint of something... _other_ than my own thoughts, my own feelings, despite how muddled they currently are.

But I need to hear the words out loud. Need to know beyond all doubt that it's-

"It's gone," Mr. Stark assures in a firm voice. "Venom hightailed it out of you. There's not even a microscopic trace of it in your system. I have the twenty six scans to prove it, too."

It's...gone.

It's _gone_.

The relief hits me so hard, for a moment I feel like I am floating away, heavy and light as air all at the same time. My eyes are burning again, and I can feel my lips quirking up in a wobbling smile.

"Twenty six?"

"You know me. I don't do anything in small measures," Mr. Stark shrugs. "Also figured you could use the extra assurance."

" _Thank_ _you_."

"For all the scans? You can thank the medical team for that. I just ordered them."

"No, for-"

"I know," he interrupts, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "I know, kid."

" _Peter_."

I look straight at the doorway, at a disheveled and exhausted Aunt May, clutching the doorframe and staring at me with wide, horrified eyes. Oh...right. I probably look awful, and the last time she saw me, I was-

May doesn't rush to my side. She takes a controlled breath, then carefully moves to stand to the left of the bed and so gently I barely feel it, brushes her fingers through my hair.

"Hey," she says thickly.

"Hey," I reply, giving her a trembling smile.

"I'll...give you two a moment," Mr. Stark says, and I hear him start to head out of the room.

"How are you feeling?" May asks, her eyes roaming over every bruise and bandage she can see, her fingers so careful as they sweep my hair from my face, as they press lightly against the cotton wrapped around my ears.

The word ' fine' shoots up to my lips, but I swallow it before it slips out. Because even though I'm not in much pain right now...I'm not. I'm not fine. Haven't been fine in a long time.

"I dunno," I mumble. "I'm...I'm relieved. It's gone, May. It's out, and I'm...but I did really, really terrible things. I-I...don't tell Mr. Stark I'm apologizing again, but I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for worrying you, for letting it...I'm sorry."

A pause.

"Still in the room, kid."

Oh. "Shit."

"I'll let that one slide. Let me know if you guys need anything," Mr. Stark adds to May.

"Thank you," May replies tersely, then turns back to me as I watch to make sure Mr. Stark actually leaves this time. "Can we maybe...take a break from scaring me into an early grave? Just...at least for a week, or something?"

That sounds reasonable. I nod.

"I'm so glad you're... I thought-I thought you-" she can't finish, and I reach up to pull her down into a hug, knowing she'd been hesitating because she was too worried about hurting me.

May keeps her weight light, but wraps her arms around me the best she can in this awkward position.

"Merry Christmas," she mumbles into my shoulder.

My stomach sinks. "It's...it's Christmas? Aw May, I'm so-"

"I know it's been almost a year since the last time," May interrupts. "But generally when someone wishes you a Merry Christmas, you wish them the same back."

I let out a short laugh. "Merry Christmas, May. Wish we were home."

"Me too, kid. We'll figure it out. You're sure I'm not hurting you?"

"I'm sure. I'm a little sore, but nothing bad. I'm also high," I assure her, patting her hair awkwardly with one of my bandaged hands. "Mr. Stark gave me drugs. The good stuff. Says I'm a ten, but not on the good scale. The shit one. Shit. I mean the looks like shit one. Sorry, I'm saying shit a lot. In my defense...I didn't...prepare...a defense."

She snorts and slowly sits up so she is perched on the bed next to me, her face filled with a somber sort of affection.

"I love you, kid."

"I love you, too."

* * *

 **Natasha Romanov**

I keep my eyes trained on the dark mass huddled in the corner of the red lit cell. It's diminished to about a quarter of its original size after it had been expelled from Peter's body, the infrared lights and flood of sonorous vibrations deteriorating it bit by bit.

The parasite curls in on itself, writhing and shuddering, trying to make itself a smaller target. I worry briefly about how small it will get. It had been miniscule enough for the Hydra scientists to inject it into Peter's chest. Will it get small enough to slip through the cracks of the cell? Or worse, microscopic?

The others better get their asses down here before it becomes an actual concern.

My head tilts slightly as my eyes track over each glistening black tendril, unlike anything I have ever seen before. And I've seen plenty by this point.

I swear it is watching me back.

There are no eyes, no face that I can see. It's more like a feeling, like I can sense its malevolent awareness of me as I stare stoically at its suffering.

I feel the bruises it inflicted on my skin throb dully in response, and my unease grows, though I am careful to keep it hidden behind my firmly blank mask.

"You alright?"

Steve's voice nearly makes me jump. I turn my head to look at him as he enters the holding cell area, Barnes right behind him like a shadow. Steve moves stiffer than he normally does, favoring his right side where I'm guessing he has several bruised ribs. His blue eyes betray his exhaustion as he examines me right back.

"A few nasty bruises. Nothing I can't handle," I reply, giving Barnes a nod of acknowledgement before returning my gaze to Venom. "You boys look a little worse for wear."

"Kid packs a punch," Steve steps beside me, folding his arms over his chest as he joins my vigil.

"It's getting smaller," Barnes observes from Steve's other side. "Does Stark have a plan for containing this thing?"

"I know Tony's the leading expert on clean energy, but sustaining the power needed to keep this up forever seems a bit out of reach. Even for him," Steve shakes his head. "And if there was a power outage…"

"You know Tony," I reply. "He usually has a plan. Whether he divulges it or not is the question."

Without turning to look at them, I ask, "How did you know to come?"

"I tried to call you," Steve admits. "Then Tony, then Sam. Bucky had woken up, and his examination showed the procedure had worked. When I couldn't get a hold of anyone, I figured things had taken a turn for the worst."

"An understatement, considering last night's disaster, wouldn't you say?"

"No casualties," Steve counters. "And the kid's going to be ok. I'd call that a win."

"We got our asses handed to us by a fifteen year old possessed by an alien parasite," I remind him. "Tony was almost killed."

"When is Tony not being 'almost killed'?"

Fair point.

"Your ability to see the silver lining in everything is borderline nauseating, you know that?"

"Just borderline?" asks Barnes. "I'd say it went beyond that years ago."

I hear Steve's inhale of breath as he goes to reply, when Venom gives a sudden, violent shudder, several tendrils lashing out jerkily. We all stiffen, Steve automatically taking a half step forward before the parasite recoils back to its quailing heap.

I let out a breath, shifting my stance. "Not exactly how I imagined spending the holidays, babysitting a malicious alien parasite."

"I've had stranger Christmases than this," Barnes murmurs, and both Steve and I glance at him with raised brows. "Don't ask."

A headache begins to bloom just behind my eyes, the previous night's battle in addition to the muffled throbbing of the sound waves and glaring lights starting to get overwhelming.

"How's Clint?" Steve asks.

"He won't be singing Christmas carols anytime soon with the damage to his throat," I wince. "But he'll be fine. Helen's assistants are setting up the Cradle right now to mend some of the damaged tissue. He's protesting."

"Why?...And how? I thought he couldn't speak?"

"Sign language. And he says his wife will definitely notice if he comes back with Cradled healing on his throat and vocal chords. Clint also said something about having the voice of an angel already, but that's when I started ignoring him."

Steve snorts.

" _Um...hello?_ "

I share a bemused glance with Steve before the three of us glance back at the intercom next to the door.

" _Is this thing working? Or do I just look like an idiot pressing a button and talking to himself in an empty room?"_ Scott's voice sounds off again.

I roll my eyes, leaving Steve and Barnes at their posts in front of the cell to move in front of the intercom. Pressing the button to reply, I say, "I'd say the answer to that is both, Scott. What is it?"

" _Ha ha. Look, I just figured you guys would want to know. Helen Cho is awake_."

My head swivels to look over my shoulder as Steve's surprised eyes meet mine. I jerk back to face the intercom.

"What's her condition? Is she talking?"

" _I heard she gave Stark an earful. The doctors said she's going to be just fine."_

I let out a sigh of relief, the tightness in my shoulders easing slightly at the news, and I exchange a small smile with Steve before movement behind him catches my eye.

The parasite quivers weakly, shriveling up to the size of a golf ball, its movements growing feebler by the second. With every inch that its body diminishes, I can feel its desperation and malice grow, the tension in the air palpably thick.

It knows it's beaten.

And it hates us for it with every inch of its black heart.

* * *

 **A/N: OH my word, sorry for the length between updates! I was seriously struggling with these wind down/ending chapters for some reason! BUT you guys seriously need to send love to PippinStrange, because not only did she have some great ideas and kickass inspiration for me, she's also the reason the last TWO chapters, will probably now be FOUR chapters. That's right! I have way more I want to write for this story before I say goodbye, and you have her to thank for that! So shoot her a pm, or leave some love in a review here, because she is such a huge help to me and now you guys will be getting more content! Yay!**

 **Also, she just updated her story Down Came the Rain, which you should all read if you haven't already! It gives me allllll the feels.**

 **Now onto review replies! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR CONTINUING TO LEAVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS AND SUPPORT!**

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* * *

 **Again guys, sorry for the wait! But you should definitely know if I had posted what I'd written days ago before my incredible beta and I had a much needed conversation/writing session, then you wouldn't have gotten the chapter you did, and you wouldn't be getting all the extra content she inspired! Three cheers for Pippin Strange! Everybody!**

 **AHem. Anyways! Many thanks to the world's best review squad! Let me know how you liked this chapter as well! At least three more now to come! Hopefully I can update sooner than last time, but I am also working a lot, so may not have time. I want these last chapters to be great, so updates may be a little slower, but I swear on my life I will finish this story!**

 **COMING UP: Chapter Nineteen: O Come All Ye Faithful**

 **Venom is beaten, but still has to be taken care of, many conversations need to happen, and Peter learns the hard way that just because he is out of the woods, it doesn't mean that he is okay. All this and more coming soon!**


	19. O Come All Ye Faithful

**Chapter Nineteen: O Come All Ye Faithful**

 **Tony Stark**

"How's my patient?" Helen rasps, her heavy lidded eyes searching my bruised face.

Of course that would be the first question she asks upon waking up. Fresh guilt stews in my gut, and I wince inwardly at the echoes of one of our last conversations, when I had snapped at her for continuing her experiment against my orders.

"Parasite free, thanks to you," I answer, trying and failing to give her a smile. "We looked through your research. You were right all along."

"Can I get that in writing?" Helen's lips curve upward softly.

"You can get it signed and framed for your office. Or on a lit up billboard in Times Square, if you wanted."

"Always so dramatic."

"I was wrong," I say shortly, unable to let her play it off lightly. "I was wrong to shut you down. If I'd trusted you like I should have, things wouldn't have gotten as bad as they did. I'm sorry."

God, I am sick of apologizing. Sick of having to.

"How bad...did they get?" Helen's eyes are creased with worry.

"I'm sorry, have you not seen where you are right now? Do you not remember what happened to you?"

She scowls. "I'm fully aware of what happened to me, thank you. I'm asking what happened with my patient. With what happened to _you_."

"This is a conversation that can wait until you're back on your feet."

"This is a conversation that can happen now."

"Helen-"

"Tony. Tell me what happened."

I huff out a sigh. "Doctors. Always so demanding and in a hurry."

She's waiting.

"It got worse," I say finally. "Hydra went after Peter at the same time they attacked you in your apartment. You're moving by the way."

"I'm not."

"You are. It's no longer safe for you there now that Hydra is aware of where you live. I'm setting you up in a-"

"-My answer is no. Upgrade my apartment with the world's best security. Hire me a team of bodyguards. But I'm staying there. Now, get back to what happened to Peter."

Stubborn woman.

So I tell her.

When I finish, she looks worn out, like just listening to me tell it is as exhausted as living through it. Helen blinks slowly, like she's fighting to stay awake, but her body is still healing, still needs the rest. I'm not a doctor, but I know that much.

I stand. "I'll let you sleep."

Her fingers wrap around my hand before I can step away. With barely opened eyes, she murmurs, "You did good, Tony. Thank you for taking care of my patient."

I swallow. "Couldn't have done it without you."

This wasn't the first time my lack of trust cost me, and cost those around me. So as I watch Helen's eyes drift shut, I make a silent vow not to let it happen again.

* * *

I look down at the cup Happy is offering me. "How many shots of espresso does this have?"

"Six."

I down it without a second glance, then toss the empty cup into the trash across the hallway.

"How's Helen?" asks Happy.

"Stubborn as ever. She's going to be back to cleaning up our messes in no time," I reply. "Did you check on the Eddie kid?"

"He's fine. Nothing some aspirin and bed rest won't cure," Happy answers. "And the orderlies are setting everything up in Peter's room as we speak. The kid and his aunt are out. You could probably send in a whole friggin Christmas parade in there, and they wouldn't stir."

Good.

It's a small gesture, nothing like the grand scheme I'd initially thought of after leaving Helen's room to let her sleep, but I know it will be appreciated all the same. Transferring the Parkers' Christmas tree, gifts, and several of their decorations to Peter's recovery room wasn't exactly difficult or expensive, and it was literally the least I could do.

"It's nice. What you're doing for the kid," Happy says.

"Yes, shipping the world's saddest looking Christmas tree to his hospital room should adequately make up for everything that's happened."

"Still stewing, huh?"

"Basking, Happy. I am basking in my enormous sense of guilt. One of my favorite pastimes. Or at least one of my most frequented."

"Maybe you should think of picking up a new hobby. One that doesn't give you more wrinkles on your face."

"You're fired. Get out."

"You haven't given me my Christmas bonus yet," he protests.

"I'll mail you a fruitcake."

"Jesus, now I'm being punished?"

"Keep talking to me right now, and I'll send one with your name on it to your mother."

"That's not funny."

"It's a little funny," I smirk as I purposefully use the retort he'd used on me only a few days ago.

Happy scowls as he reaches in his pocket for his vibrating phone. Before he answers it, he jabs a finger at me, "No fruitcakes," he says, then puts the phone to his ear and strides down the hallway.

"No promises," I call after him.

I inhale deeply, cracking my neck from side to side. The odds that everyone would come out of this situation...intact, had been slim to none. It's a new brand of luck, one that I doubt will last, but that I am grateful for all the same.

And now...one last order of business.

Hate sits heavy in my gut, heating my blood as my thoughts drift to the holding cells at the base of the facility.

One last order of business, to put this all to rest.

* * *

 **Steve Rogers**

The door leading to the holding cells opens with a hiss of noise.

My head swivels back to look at Tony, my muscles automatically stiffening at the sight of his storming eyes, his set jaw, the raised tendons on his neck. For a moment, I worry something else has happened...that Helen or Peter took a sudden turn for the worse. But his eyes fix on the corner of the red lit cell, narrowing on the penny sized, black form there, still shuddering feebly.

Tony's hate is as tangible as Venom's.

It puts an extra layer of heated tension in the already high strung atmosphere.

He's wearing his scratched, battle worn metal suit, sans helmet, looking like he's ready for war.

And just past his shoulder...

"What is that?" I raise a brow.

Tony blinks at me for a moment, as if my words take a minute to absorb into his rage addled brain, then he glances back at the robot trailing along behind him like he forgot it was there. "Oh, that's Dum-E Jr."

"Dum-E...jr.," Natasha repeats slowly.

"First one might have blown up. It's not important," Tony waves us off.

"What is it going to do?" Bucky asks, warily looking at Tony like he might have lost his mind.

"Help contain it," Tony's jaw is tight as he nods towards Venom. "I don't trust that thing not to make a grab for one of you if you go in there to retrieve it. That thing is pissed and desperate. Just like you, Barnesy boy."

Bucky scowls at him, unimpressed as Tony continues. "The only way it gets out of here or regains its strength is through a host. I don't plan on giving it one."

"Can't you just destroy it?" I ask as the robot halts in place right in front of the cell door.

"I would, if it was possible."

My brows furrow, and I look back at the quivering parasite. "You're joking."

"Wish I were," Tony sighs grimly as he moves to the keypad to the left of the cell door. "F.R.I.D.A.Y. was able to do a complete scan and chemical breakdown of the thing, now that it's out of the kid. We could electrocute it, douse it with fluoroantimonic acid, blast it with every inch of power we possess, even toss it into the heart of Mount Vesuvius if we felt like it. Wouldn't make a damn bit of difference."

"Jesus," I breathe.

"And you expect that...thing to be able to help you contain it?" Bucky asks with a skeptical look at Dum-E Jr., its mechanical arm tilting slightly as if it heard him.

"I'm sorry, do you have a better idea? If you're volunteering as tribute, Dum-E Jr. here would probably love to toss you in with Venom instead."

"Tony-" Natasha starts.

"Relax," Tony rolls his eyes, pulling out something silver and slender from his pocket. The light catches on it as he holds it out in his palm for us to see.

Bucky's eyes narrow on it. "Is that-?"

"Vibranium? Yes. Courtesy of T-Challa."

"That's a kingly gift," Natasha murmurs.

"The kingliest," Tony closes his gauntleted fingers over the container, turning towards Dum-E Jr. and attaching it to one of the prongs at the end of its hooked metal arm. "Now if you'll excuse us-"

"Tony," I step forward, placing a hand on the thick ballistic glass separating Tony from the parasite. "Stop and think for a moment-"

"About what, exactly?"

"I don't think you should go in there, even with the suit," I admit grimly. "You're compromised."

The look he gives me could melt iron. "You're in my way."

"He has a point, Tony," Natasha murmurs from behind me. "You're too close to this. Too invested in the kid. You're angry, rightfully so, but-"

"I'm not angry," Tony sets his jaw. "I'm _furious_. I'm also going in there. End of discussion. Move the arm, or I'll do it for you."

There's still too much tension between us, despite the apologies, despite fighting side by side again, and I know I can't push him on this. Reluctantly, I step back, dropping my arm to my side. "You aren't the only one who can wear a suit of armor, you know. It doesn't have to be you."

Tony places the helmet on his head and unlocks the cell door through the keypad. The door slides open just enough for him and his robotic assistant to step through. He pauses at the threshold, his head turning back slightly as he says, "Yes. It does."

They enter the cell.

Natasha moves forward swiftly to close the glass barrier behind them and lets out a tense breath. "I don't like this."

"Cheer up, Romanov. If this goes south you can say 'I told you so'. You love that," Tony says with forced lightness, his voice barely discernible through the barrier and sound waves blasting through the cell.

She doesn't bother to reply. The three of us stand alert, watching the interior of the cell with our bodies tense, muscles coiled, ready to intervene if this plan goes sideways.

I step closer to the cell door. "Keep a hand on the keypad," I murmur to Natasha. "Just in case."

"It's refreshing how much faith you have in me," Tony calls back as he adjusts something on his gauntlets and eases closer to the cornered parasite.

I don't even know how he can hear us through all that, but I reply back anyways, "It's not you I don't have faith in."

Tony pauses, crouching down on one knee, a palm stretched out towards Venom. The air is distorted, vibrating between them, and I know he is using a more concentrated beam of soundwaves to corral the parasite away from the wall. My teeth clench together as it presses itself more firmly into the corner, so small I can barely see it past Tony's shoulder.

The robot Tony brought it with him slowly extends its metal arm, piece by piece, until the tips of its metal prongs are just inches away from Venom. White blue electricity begins to crackle at the end of the metal as it eases closer to the parasite's other side, giving it nowhere to move.

It lashes out.

I take a step forward, my chest tightening as the black tendrils latch onto Tony's metal covered index finger. Tony stiffens, keeping his hand away from his body as the parasite shudders, small coils searching for a gap, for a breach in his armor.

"Tony-" I am seconds away from demanding Natasha to open the door.

Tony holds out his other hand, his palm towards us. "I got it."

The circular surface of his free hand begins to glow brightly the air around it distorted with heat and vibrations. Tony's helmet gazes down at the desperate, struggling form still prodding the metal plates encasing his finger. Then he shoves his free palm directly against it.

The result is instant.

I can hear the shrieking over the pulsing beat of the sound waves, through the barrier of thick, ballistic glass. Venom writhes, the tendrils shooting out uncontrollably as it releases its grip on Tony's finger, but Tony doesn't pull his other hand away. If anything, I swear he presses his glowing palm harder against the parasite's squirming form.

I can't see his face beneath his helmet, but the rage simmering off his metal suit is as tangible as the heat radiating off the thermal lights lining the cell.

"Tony!" I snap, pounding one fist against the glass in warning. One warning is all I am giving him before I charge in there myself. I'm not going to let this thing take anyone else. I'm not going to let Tony make a stupid mistake because he can't control his fury. There is no room for stupid mistakes here, not where Venom is concerned.

Tony's back is to me, and I open my mouth to tell Nat to open the door.

He shoves the parasite into the metal container and slams the lid closed. The light in his gauntlets dim, and Tony seals and locks the lid. For a moment I worry that he will try try to take it from Dum-E Jr's prongs, but instead he turns and says, "F.R.I.D.A.Y. kill the lights. Shut this cell down."

The red lights slowly dim to a dull glowing orange as they power down, and the sound waves shut off so abruptly, the absence of the constant, pulsing beat makes my ears ring.

Natasha opens the cell door, her sharp eyes watching the container in the robot's grasp as it rolls steadily forward. Tony remains in the cell, staring at the floor. I realize with a pang that it's where Peter was lying right after Venom had been ripped out of him

I cross over the threshold. "You alright?"

"You know, I'm getting tired of people asking that."

"Good. We're getting tired of asking."

His head lifts, the slots of his helmet gazing at me as I give him a half smile. Tony shakes his head before he grasps the helmet in both hands and removes it.

"What now?" I ask, nodding towards Dum-E Jr. and the capsule Venom had just been thrust into.

Tony's dark eyes follow the gesture, something roiling in his gaze. "Now I pay back T-Challa for his present by sending him a prisoner."

"You're taking it to Wakanda?"

"I'm not. Barnes is," Tony strides out of the cell without a backward glance before I can protest. He stops in front of Bucky, who straightens as he meets his eyes, and I watch the pair warily. "I need someone I can trust to take that son of a bitch out of here. Can you handle that?"

I blink at him in surprise. And then I realize...

It isn't a power move or way to get Bucky out of here. Tony...trusts him. Trusts him enough to make sure that the threat he loathes more than anything on this planet doesn't escape. Trusts him enough to be the one to get it far away from here, away from Peter. Trusts him, because Bucky stopped Peter from killing Tony and effectively saved both of their lives.

"I can handle it," Bucky replies, something flickering in his expression.

"Good," Tony says shortly. "My team will handle the security measures and load it onto the jet. You have twenty minutes before you leave."

I almost volunteer to go with him. Almost. But I don't want to undermine Tony's rare gesture of goodwill. And I want Bucky to have this, to know that we all trust him with something as big as this, to know he is part of this team.

I also think that right now, Tony needs me more.

So when Bucky's eyes move to mine, I give him a nod.

He returns it, and with a final, solemn glance at Tony, he turns and leaves.

* * *

 **Peter Parker**

"How's the pain, on a scale of one to ten?"

I squint my eyes at the ceiling as I try to assess. Honestly, I've never felt so...battered. Like every nerve is scraped raw, every muscle has been beaten for hours with a meat tenderizer, and all of my insides have been rearranged.

"A...five?" I venture, because even though I'm in pain, I know there is still a significant amount of medication in my system, taking the edge off. And to be honest, nothing will ever compare to the agony I experienced in that cell.

"Five is manageable," the nurse nods at her clipboard as her pen scratches across the page. "Ok, Peter, we are going to keep those pain meds at 30 milligrams now, see if we can't wean you off a bit. If it gets unbearable, press this button here, and someone will come increase your dose. Sound good?"

"Y-yeah, sure," I say distractedly, barely stopping my hand from coming up to rub at my chest. Vaguely, I notice that May and the nurse are chatting, but my mind drifts. Rubbing at my chest had become somewhat of a habit, one I am now determined to break. Luckily, the burns across my sternum provide plenty of motivation.

"Peter?"

"Hmm?" I look back up at May, her brown eyes worried as they peer down at me through her glasses. I catch a glimpse of teal colored scrubs disappearing past the doorway behind her.

She frowns at me as she chews on her bottom lip, her arms coming up to fold across her chest. "Are you sure the pain is only at a five? Ah-ah, no bullshitting," she points a finger at me as my mouth opens. "I mean it. Be straight with me."

"It's a five," I insist, my voice cracking at the worst possible moment. I stifle a groan. She definitely isn't going to believe me now. "Seriously. It's not too bad. I'm just...sore. A little dizzy. Did you text Ned?"

May blinks, before her brows knit together suspiciously at the sudden change in subject. "No, I haven't. How much does he know?"

"Just...the basics, I guess? I don't know. I-last time I talked to him was before we...before _I-_ ," I let out a frustrated breath, hating how my chest tightens and my stomach clenches when I even start to think about what happened. "I just want him to know that I'm ok. He's probably freaking out."

May's eyes soften, and she turns back to her purse that's leaning precariously on the counter. She pulls out her brand new Stark phone. I try not to wince at the memory of crushing her old one into pieces in my hand, and my stomach begins to squirm. "Do you wanna-?" she offers, holding it out towards me.

"I...can you? Just...just let him know that it's, that I...you know," I swallow, gesturing feebly towards my chest. God, could I sound more pathetic? The squirming in my gut intensifies to a tightening, lurching sensation, and my bandaged hand comes up to rest on my stomach. I try to keep my breaths slow and even, try to will the sensations away.

May's face is illuminated a pale blue as her thumbs tap out a message to Ned on her new phone.

I'm not going to hurl. I'm not going to hurl. I'm not going to hurl.

My sore muscles and torn insides keep up the chant. The idea of vomiting right now, when I'm already in so much pain…

I'm not going to hurl. I'm not going to-I'm not-

The nausea gets worse.

I try to fight it, but as my mouth begins to water and my stomach begins to roil violently, I choke out, " _May_."

She takes one look at my pale face, at the sweat beading across my forehead and drops the phone to lunge for the silver pan on the counter. May thrusts it under my chin just as I lurch forward, my gut seizing as I begin vomiting violently into the pan.

I can feel my limbs trembling, feel an icy hot chill prickling across my skin as I heave over and over, unable to take a single breath as I empty my stomach. The cramps make my already sore muscles ache and protest. Choking and spitting out the last of it, I blink my heavily watering eyes and inhale shakily as May rubs soothing circles on my back with her free hand.

"You're okay," May says in what I call her 'wounded animal' voice. "It's okay."

But as I blink away the water from my eyes, and my vision clears, horror seizes me so suddenly it's like my heart halts in my chest.

It's not okay.

Because...because in the pan is...is _black_.

My breathing comes faster and faster as the room starts spinning and tilting around me, and my fingers are curling, grasping the blanket and balling into trembling fists.

"Peter? Peter, honey, what's wrong? Are you going to throw up again?"

No. _Yes_. I-I need to-I can't-

It's _black_. It's black and if it's black then that means that I-that _Venom-_

I heave again, so forcefully I nearly knock the pan out of May's hand, but nothing comes. My stomach is empty. But it can't be, it can't because it's black and I have to get it _out_! I heave over and over and over again, my muscles contracting and screaming, my head throbbing as my heart tries to slam its way out of my chest, but it's still not _working_.

"Jesus! Peter, take a breath! Just, just stop for a second-" May's voice is tight, panicked. "Honey, _breathe_!"

It's still in me, it's still there. How could I have missed it? My heart is beating too rapidly for me to tell if it's one pulse or two, my chest too horrendously tight, my skin flashing between frigid ice and unbearable heat too fast for me to figure out where it's coming from-where is it where is it where is it-

"Peter!"

I'm tipping, half lunging, half falling off of the bed in a heap of flailing limbs as May barely yanks back the pan before I can dump it all over the bed, the floor…

I barely feel the impact of landing on the chilled tile floor before I am scrambling back, my spine hitting the wall hard as my hands scrabble at my chest. There's something horribly wrong-I can't feel my fingers, even as they twist into rigid claws against my will, as numbness spreads up my arms.

Oh god oh god, it's still there, and it's taking over and May's rushing for me and I don't want to hurt her and I can't breathe-

I flinch as her hands press flat against the sides of my head, her palms soft and warm against my cheeks. Her eyes are wide and far too close to my own, but I am already backed into the corner, and there's nowhere for me to pull away from her.

"Hang on, baby, hang on. The nurses are on their way, ok? They'll be here any minute, I promise. I just need you to calm down, I need you to breathe, Peter. _Breathe_ ," May's thumbs brush over my cheekbones.

I open my mouth, but my throat has closed up, and god, even my _lips_ are numb.

There's a shadow behind May, and my wide, wet eyes shoot up, terrified, waiting to see the pale eyes, the mouth full of fangs-

Its...Bucky?

He stands in the doorway, one hand wrapped around the doorframe, looking as shocked to see me where I am as I am to see him.

May whirls where she is crouched in front of me and stiffens, obviously expecting him to have been a nurse. We all remain still for a moment, his icy blue eyes raking across me. The tense silence is broken by a wheezy groan deep in my chest, the sound snapping both May and Bucky from their frozen positions.

Bucky crosses the room in three long strides, kneeling in front of me as May crouches by my side, her hand running down my arm.

"What happened?" demands Bucky, his hands firmly but gently taking my wrists and moving my stiff, clawed hands away from my bandaged chest.

"I don't-he threw up," May puts a shaking hand to her forehead. "He just threw up and kept heaving and not breathing and just-just dove off the bed. Where the _hell_ are those goddamn nurses?!"

My arms jerk feebly against Bucky's grip, my wide eyes pleading with him to understand, to _help_ me get it _out_.

"You're having a panic attack," he says abruptly.

Yeah, no shit, I wanna say. Of course I'm panicking, because it was black and I can feel it in me and it's still there and I can't even control my limbs anymore.

"Your brain is telling you that you can't breathe. It's wrong. You can. You know how," Bucky's tone is calm, stern, like he's giving me orders on a mission instead of crouched in front of me in my recovery room.

I listen, or I try to. I have to get a breath in. I have to, because I am seeing mottled gray spots creeping in the edges of my vision, and I know I am getting closer to passing out. I have to, because I have to get enough air to tell him that something went wrong, that Venom is still in me, and he has to help me.

I will my lungs to expand, for my throat to relax enough for air to pass through.

"Too fast. Slow it down. Focus on one breath. Just one."

More and more spots, but then-

"Good," Bucky says as I inhale raggedly and let it out in a huff. I am able to take a few more breaths, but the muscles in my arms and hands are still locked, still numb, and my chest feels like it might snap in two it is so rigid.

"I...I-" I can't get the words out. He waits patiently, his face like stone. "V-venom-"

May inhales sharply, her hand on my shoulder squeezing involuntarily.

"Venom can't get to you. Not anymore," Bucky replies.

"...No...it, you don't-it's still inside me," I finally gasp, warmth sliding down my cheeks. "It's still there."

Bucky doesn't look shocked. Or worried. Or concerned in the slightest.

"It's not," he shakes his head, his eyes not leaving mine for a second. "Stark got it out of you."

"He didn't- something must have...gone wrong, I-they missed it, they-" I am shaking in his grasp. I have to make him understand- "It's still in me."

" _Peter_ ," he says my name firmly, sharply, demanding every ounce of my attention. "I just watched Tony Stark enter its cell and place the parasite in a vibranium container. It's sealed. It's under a constant heat source, and it's being loaded onto a Quinjet as we speak. I'm taking it to Wakanda. That's why I'm here. To tell you, you're safe. It can't get to you anymore."

But...but… "The...black. It was...it was _black_."

His brows furrow together, his stoic expression breaking for the first time.

May makes a distressed noise in her throat. "Oh. _Oh_. Peter-oh my god, I'm so-Ok, listen, honey. The nurse, she told me it might be a side effect, of the pain medication you're on. It's normal. The nausea, the dark colored vomit, it's all normal. I thought you heard. Peter, I'm so sorry. I'm _sorry_ , honey, I didn't think about it-didn't think how it must have looked...what you must have _thought-_ "

"Are...are you _sure_?"

"I'm positive," May says emphatically. "It's just the medicine, Peter. Tony showed me your scans. It isn't there anymore, I promise. It's gone, baby. It's gone."

My insides still feel like they are strung tighter than Hawkeye's bow, but slowly, my muscles begin to relax. The spinning room rights itself, and I lean my head back against the wall, my breathing finally beginning to even out.

It's gone. It's still gone.

I'm...I'm…

Oh _man_.

Relief starts at the crown of my head and trickles down my skull, my spine, my limbs, leaving heavy exhaustion in its wake. I slump against the wall, feeling like a marionette whose strings had just been cut.

Bucky lets go of my wrists, and my arms flop down into my lap, the prickling numbness locking up my fingers slowly dissipating as feeling returns to them.

"I'm...sorry," I murmur with heavy lidded eyes.

"You don't have to be sorry. _I'm_ sorry, Peter. I should have realized," May rubs her hand up and down my arm.

"Not your fault. I...it was stupid...freaking out like that," I lift a heavy hand and rub at my face, mortification seeping through my exhaustion.

Of _course_. Of course it couldn't just be May here to witness my absolutely ridiculous freakout and panic attack. I'm almost too tired and sore to care, but a piece of me is still horribly embarrassed. Of all the people in the facility, why did it have to be him? Could be worse, my brain supplies. It could have been the Black Widow. Or Captain America.

I can't believe I just...and in front of…

It's like my brain had just shut off completely, my panic had hit me so hard, so fast. There'd been no room for logical arguments, no time to stop and remember what Mr. Stark had told me, what he'd shown me.

I'd zoned out again.

I know I had, because there are suddenly teal clad nurses around me, helping me up to my feet as May snaps at them for taking so long.

Keeping my eyes down, I allow them to push me back into the bed, to readjust the IV's and the monitors. Tears are still rolling down my cheeks, but I'm too exhausted to wipe them away. Besides, it's not like I could be any more mortified at the moment.

A heavy hand grips my shoulder, different from the light touches of the nurses. Reluctantly, I drag my eyes up to meet Bucky's.

"It doesn't make you weak," he murmurs, his words just meant for me as the nurses continue to bustle around me in a dizzying blue rush. "It makes you human."

"You...sound like a Hallmark card," I deadpan, my voice hoarse and raw.

The corners of his lips quirk up. "Doesn't mean I'm wrong," Bucky's face turns serious again. "Sometimes...sometimes having an anchor...it helps."

"An...anchor?"

"Something to ground yourself. When the panic hits," Bucky explains. "For me, it's my hand."

My eyes drift to his metal arm, covered by a dark gray jacket. He holds up his other hand, which curls into a fist. "I focus on my pulse. On the feeling of my nails digging into my skin. On the pain. Reminds me that I'm the one in the control. It's my body. It's me."

I blink slowly, my eyes drifting back up to his face.

"It helps," Bucky says again, then shifts on his feet. "I have to go."

Right. To Wakanda. To take Venom away...forever.

"Could you…? Never mind," I murmur, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back onto my pillow.

"What?"

"It's, well, it's stupid. But. If you-if there's some way you could, I don't know, take a picture or something? Video call Mr. Stark? Just so, just so I can see when Venom is...where Venom-"

"Yeah."

"...yeah?"

"Sure, kid."

"Thank you," the words begin to slur as the pain medication floods back in, making me warm and sleepy and lighter than I should be.

May's hand trails through my hair. She does that too much. I should...I should tell her not to. But it feels nice.

It feels like home.

* * *

 **A/N: Most sincere apologies for the long delay and much overdue chapter update!**

 **Oh my word! It has seriously been way too long. I have been insanely busy (ask PippinStrange, she can vouch for me) and have had hardly any time to write or edit. So this chapter took much longer than my previous updates. For those of you asking though, I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS STORY! I PROMISE! The next two chapters are already planned out, they just have to be written. So I can't say when they will be posted, as my life is so insane right now, but I WILL post them.**

 **In connection with that, I did manage to write part one of a dark Spiderman/Avengers one-shot that is based on Chase Holfelder's version of 'My Country 'tis of Thee'. I wasn't going to post it until Silent Night was finished, and especially since it ends...in a certain way, and I am nowhere near ready with part two of the two-shot. So here I will leave it up to you, dear readers. If you'd like me to post what I have of the two-shot, leave your vote in your review on this chapter below. Here's a snippet of the first section to help you decide:**

...

"My limbs are leaden, my feet dragging and shuffling against the ground, every part of me so ridiculously heavy, it's like gravity has increased tenfold. The thick, metal cuffs welding my wrists together certainly don't help.

With every step, I can hear the beat of a mighty drum, the reverberations so loud, so deep, so final, I can feel it in my bones. The beat quickens with each reluctant step, and it's then I realize that it isn't a distant drum.

It's the beat of my heart.

I can't seem to catch my breath. It comes in short, shallow inhales through my nose, and it takes every effort not to open my mouth beneath my mask and start gasping like a drowning man.

But my body knows. It knows each breath, each beat of my heart, each step brings me closer and closer to the end.

To my end."

...

 **Let me know in your review if you want me to post the rest of part one!**

 **As always, a MASSIVE thanks to my beta, my writing comrade in arms! We haven't gotten to write or beta for each other very much the past couple weeks, but what little time we've gotten together has of course been phenomenal and ended with phenomenal things being written! So if you haven't read anything by PippinStrange yet, you don't know what you are missing. Go read Down Came the Rain, it's the best story on this site, and then go read Spiderman meets Deadpool because it is freaking hilarious and very in character! I haven't mentioned it in awhile but to those of you who are new or feeling nostalgic, she created a fan trailer for my first installment, Paint it Black! I can't post the link here, but if you want to see it, pm me or PippinStrange, or even better, message us through instagram! You'll find our usernames on our author pages. :)**

 **THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR WONDERFUL AND KIND REVIEWS! Your continued support means the world to me! I love my review squad! You'll also be happy to hear that I am now on Archive of our Own! I haven't posted anything yet, but plan on doing a rewrite/re-edit of both Paint it Black and Silent Night to post on there. There will be new scenes, added characters, and hopefully even better written original scenes as well! I will let you know here when I start doing so. :)**

* * *

 **DarylDixon'sLover: Thank you!**

 **Gandalf537: Thank you very much! So glad you enjoyed all the interactions!**

 **Immortal Eternity: Lol! Peter shushing Tony was the first thing I knew I wanted to write for this chapter. XD So glad you liked it!**

 **TeamCaptain2016: Passed on your thanks! :) Glad you liked the chapter, and happy to hear that your writing is improving! That's awesome! Best of luck to you!**

 **WolfsHonot: Glad it was worth the wait! Hopefully this one was as well. :) Just a teeny bit of Steve and Nat in this one, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same!**

 **Monkeybaby: Thank you!**

 **Syed: Hmmmm ;)**

 **Heroes21: WOW! THANK YOU! That is a huge and wonderful comment! Thank you so much! I hope to always keep writing as well!**

 **PippinStrange: Ahhhhh you are always TOO KIND! Thank you so much beta friend of mine! Writing with you is such a joy and makes me so happy and inspired, and I hope we continue to do it until we are old and decrepit and writing the same sentence over and over because we've already forgotten we wrote it. ;D**

 **DiamondGirl140: Thank you so much! :)**

 **GinaBoo: YES. lol. Definitely post vacation longing. Life went straight into stressful overload mode the minute I got back, some great things, some not so great, but I could definitely use a week on the beach again but this time to do nothing but read and write and sleep. lol! Glad you enjoyed!**

 **Jokul Frosti The Winter Child: Rest is on the way!**

 **StarStepper: :D :D :D :D :D You made my day! Oh my word! I definitely am! Only about fifty thousand words into my novel at this point, but I have a plot mapped out and an awesome beta. It's one of my resolutions to finish writing it this year. :) THANK YOU!  
**

 **MewWinx96: I too, took enjoyment out of drugged Peter. Lol. Glad you liked it!**

 **Luckypizzadog: XD XD XD Lol!**

 **Adamblaze: Gaaaah thank you so so so so much! If I ever get published, I will be sure to put it on my author profile so you guys can find it! ;) You're the best! Thank you!**

 **Gammathetaalpha: Thank you so much! I loved those moments as well. I am going to leave it open for a third installment, which I may write one day if I get inspired too, but as of now there are no official plans for a third one. :)**

 **Phoenixhp5: Thank you very much! I enjoyed writing that chapter. :) Hopefully you enjoyed this one as well!**

 **Guest: Didn't want to torture the kid for too long. lol.**

 **ShadesofGrey777: Awwww thank you so much!**

 **10-lanterns-and-a-dreamcatcher: No worries! I definitely know how crazy life can get! Hope you enjoyed! :)**

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 **Annabelle Poe: THanks!**

* * *

 **Alright people, hopefully it won't be too long before the next update, but like I said, I have no idea how much time I will have to write this week. So please, lovely review squad, leave me your thoughts on this chapter, and let me know if you want me to post part one of that two-shot and I will do so!**

 **Coming up:**

 **Chapter Twenty: I'll be Home for Christmas**

 **Peter and the Avengers continues to recover and has a much needed heart to heart with the one person who understands what he is going through the most.**

* * *

After chapter twenty, guys, all that's left is the Epilogue. And it's going to be a good one! Lots of laughter, heartstring pulling, fluff (SO MUCH FLUFF) and a post credits scene true to Marvel form. ;)


	20. I'll be Home for Chrismas

**Chapter Twenty: I'll be Home for Christmas**

 **Peter Parker**

Please don't wake up, please don't wake up.

I slip the brand new Stark smartphone from the pocket of my sweatshirt, and silently turn so that my back is to him.

Pressing the camera icon in the corner, I raise the phone, wincing at the soreness in my shoulder, my chest. With my free hand, I gesture to Mr. Stark, who is completely passed out on the couch behind me, his arms crossed over his chest, his lips parted as he snores lightly. I smile, lips pressed together in amusement, eyebrows raised, and take the selfie.

Mr. Stark gives a little start, twitching in his sleep, and I leap away, whirling, the excuse already forming on my tongue, but he's still fast asleep. I let out a short sigh of relief and quickly but silently leave him to rest.

The thought crosses my mind that he probably hasn't had a decent night of sleep for a long while, and that maybe the selfie was a little mean. But I don't plan on showing it to anyone. Well, maybe Ned. Definitely Ned, but that's it.

Besides, I distinctly remember Mr. Stark taking a very unflattering picture of me with sensors taped to my head and wrapped in what looked like a giant piece of aluminum foil.

So this is justice.

I slip the phone into my sweatshirt pocket and head down the hall, rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck side to side.

Once again, I am ignoring orders to stay in bed and rest. But I feel like half of my life the past few weeks has consisted of waking up in hospital like beds and rooms. Not to mention every time I wake up from one of my nightmares, pouring sweat and shuddering from either phantom heat or ice smothering my skin, it takes me forever to remember where I am, when I am and what is real.

It's stifling in that room. Besides, I'm not going far. And it's not like I am going to go crawling all over the ceiling or start practicing flips. I still plan on resting wherever I end up, so they can't be too mad at me.

I had, however, sent May a text on her new Stark phone as well, letting her know I was getting some air before going back to bed. She'd been hesitant to leave my side, but I'd finally convinced her to go get some food. I could just imagine the look on her face if she came back to the room and my bed was empty.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to look at the text on my home screen.

Speaking of which…

 _May: Do. not. go. far._

Another buzz.

 _May: If you injure yourself or push your body past its limits when it's still healing…_

 _May: So help me, Peter Benjamin Parker, I will put locks on that door myself._

I type back quickly, my thumbs flying across the touch screen keyboard.

 _Me: I won't! Promise._

 _Me: Also, locks on the door?_

 _Me: Rly?_

 _May: Don't think I won't. Love you_

 _Me: Pretty sure I read a book once about an aunt locking a boy in his room._

 _Me: Under the stairs_

 _Me: Just sayin_

 _Me: Also, love you too_

 _May: Ha ha. You have half an hour before I tear through this place like a maniac to find_

 _you._

 _May: Don't make me do that._

 _May: this place is a goddamn maze_

 _Me: I know. Be back soon._

I pocket the phone and move slowly and carefully through the halls of the compound. My muscles ache in protest with every step, but my chest already feels lighter, less tight as I move through the open spaces.

Reaching an intersection of two crisscrossing hallways, I stop short.

"Holy shit," I breathe, my eyes widening as I glance down towards my right. It's taped off with yellow caution tape, the hall completely demolished. There's a huge gaping hole in one wall, massive chunks of cement and debris littered across the floor, and a fine layer of white dust covering everything like a poor excuse for snow.

A flash of memory behind my eyes leaves me wincing. Gripping the wide metal beam in my hands, aiming the jagged end towards Natasha, her face grim as she shoves at the debris pinning her to the floor.

I turn on my heels and move in the opposite direction, my slightly trembling hand coming up to press against my bandaged chest. A deep ache blooms beneath my touch, and I welcome the pain.

An anchor, Bucky had said.

Just days ago I'd been agonizing over breaking the habit of rubbing at the icy place where Venom used to be near my heart.

Not anymore.

The pain I feel there beneath the bandages, beneath the still healing burned flesh and the bruised muscles below that, grounds me in the moment. It reminds me that there is only one heartbeat there. It reminds me that my body is warm, not cold. It reminds me of everything everyone did to save me. To keep me human.

I find myself entering the lobby of the compound, and I frown briefly. This place really is like a maze, and somehow I always find myself here, like it's the center you keep getting drawn to when you're trying to find the exit.

A dark figure is silhouetted by the large windows of near blinding white.

I stop short.

I guess it actually _is_ Bucky's new official brooding spot. He's sitting on one of those funny gray ottomans again, watching the tiny flakes of white snow drift lazily down from the sky. He's dressed in casual clothes, his metal arm covered by a navy long sleeved shirt, his elbows are resting on his knees. Embarrassment heats the blood in my cheeks, recalling in unfortunate clarity how he had witnessed my complete freak out.

I'd been moving silently. He probably didn't hear me enter the room. I could back up and disappear and not have to deal with the undoubtedly painful awkwardness that could ensue if I tried to talk to him. Or... I could not be a coward, and go up to him, and thank him properly for everything that he's done for me.

Ah, what the hell.

I cross the room and perch beside him.

"Hey."

Bucky looks at me sideways. "Hey."

"So, when uh...when did you get back?" I ask.

"A couple days ago," Bucky turns his gaze back to the massive wall of windows, so I do too. Frost forms on the corners of the panes; delicate, crystalline, geometric patterns that glisten and shine in the sunlight. Small, fluffy white flakes drift lazily down from the sky to disappear into the snow covered lawn framing the long drive leading up to the facility.

It's quiet, mesmerizing, pretty. A stark contrast from the last time we sat together looking out these windows. It feels like ages since that day.

Light glints down to my left, catching my eye, and I look down to see Bucky's metal palm stretched towards me, waiting.

Wait, does he really…?

Does he...want to hold hands?

I look from his hand to his impassive face, still staring out the window. How the hell do you tell the Winter Soldier, 'thanks, but no thanks' to holding his hand?

"Your phone," he says shortly.

Oh. Duh. The tips of my ears warm as I fumble for it and then drop it into his waiting palm.

Bucky takes it, his eyes dropping to the screen as he moves past the lock screen. My selfie with the sleeping Mr. Stark pops up onto the display.

Shit.

"Uh...that was, er-" I rub the back of my head awkwardly.

The corner of Bucky's mouth just quirks up as he swipes it away and goes to the home screen. Curious, and maybe just slightly concerned as to why he is messing with my brand new phone, I lean forward to look over his shoulder.

He moves fast, and I pause my observations to look closer at his metal hand. The silver fingertips work flawlessly with the touch screen, like someone had taken the time to put in metal fingerprints that would work with electronic sensors for phones and tablets.

The phone screen flashes brightly, startling me, and I nearly yank it out of his hand. "Dude-!" I start, thinking he broke it, but then the light on the phone dims, and I focus on the screen. "Is that...what is that?"

Bucky hands me back the phone. There are numbers in the right hand corner, the date, military time, some other codes and symbols I am unfamiliar with. My eyes move over the picture of the room on the screen, to the large silver doors in the center, circular in shape and covered with more symbols and a complicated looking keypad beside it. It's a vault, I realize. And standing on either side are two fierce looking female guards in elaborate armor, metal spears in their palms. They stare straight ahead, unmoving, and are honestly the sickest, most badass looking warriors I have ever seen.

"It's a live feed," Bucky tells me. "From the Wakandan palace. Venom is behind that door."

A chill shudders across my skin and prickles the hair on the base of my neck. The feed looks instantly more foreboding. Just the knowledge that the parasite is there, behind those doors...waiting…

"Only the King himself has access to that vault," Bucky continues, and I can feel his eyes on me. "T'Challa is the one person who can open that door. Beyond it are about a hundred security systems that make Stark's look like child's play. Venom was placed deep inside the vault, in a vibranium container, inside another smaller cell that is continually supplying a high source of heat."

I stare at the door, the screen wavering, because my hands holding the phone are shaking ever so slightly.

"It's not going anywhere, kid. Ever."

I let out a long breath, setting the phone down into my lap and blinking a few times before I look back up at him. " _Thank you_. No, seriously man. Thank you. This is...it's great. But, and don't take this the wrong way, but, am I technically _allowed_ to have a live feed into a high security area of the Wakandan palace on my cell phone?"

Bucky smirks. "I pulled some strings."

So freaking awesome.

I take another glance at the security feed before closing it down and slipping my phone back into my pocket. "Look, I know everyone's telling me not to, but I just wanted to...apologize. For everything. And to thank you."

"Don't apologize to me. I kicked your scrawny ass."

"I kicked yours first!" I protest. "And it's not scrawny, it's...that's besides the point."

The man just shrugs, like 'if you say so'.

"I'm just trying to say-"

"I know. And I'm saying, you don't have to."

I let out a huff. For the amount of people apologizing to me for everything I went through, no one will let me even come close to saying I'm sorry for everything _I_ put _them_ through.

"Okaaaay. So if I can't apologize, can I at least thank you?"

"You already did."

"Well, yeah, for the security feed thing. But there's kind of a list. If you hadn't of gotten there when you did, I could have...I would have…" I blow out a breath, trying to ease the sudden tightening around my chest. "And after, when I was freaking out...you didn't have to do that. Help, I mean. You keep doing that, helping me. Stopping me from...you know, and talking me through my meltdown and taking...it to Wakanda, and the video feed...And I just-I appreciate it. Really."

God, have I always been this eloquent? I want to smack my head on the frost covered window in front of me. I can't even say thank you without sounding like a spazz.

Bucky pauses. "You're welcome."

I glance over at him, letting out a relieved sigh. "And...I know I'm just a fifteen year old who keeps getting into more trouble than I'm worth, but...if there's anything I can ever do...for you. I will. I'm here. So...yeah."

I rub the back of my neck, staring out at the almost too bright blanket of snow outside.

"I'll let you know," Bucky replies.

For several long minutes, we watch the snow fall in silence, and for the first time in...weeks, I feel...relaxed. I feel like me again. A small smile curves my lips. Venom's gone. It's out of me and across the planet in probably the most secure place on Earth. It can't touch me. It can't hurt anyone else. And we're all...ok, more or less.

It seems too good to be true.

I eye Bucky as I clasp my hands together, curiosity now at the forefront of my emotions.

"So...you were in Wakanda. Before, I mean," I clarify as he raises a brow in my direction. "Did they...did they get it out of you, too? You told me you couldn't feel the darkness. But that it was there. Did they get it out?"

Bucky is gazing at the snow again when he answers. "Yes. They did."

I'm grinning, probably looking like a total doofus, but I don't care. "That's _awesome_."

Bucky snorts. "Yeah, kid. It's pretty awesome."

I hold out my hand towards him, my fingers curling into a fist. His brows furrow together as he looks down at it. I give my fist a little shake. "Dude, you're supposed to pound it."

The Winter Soldier rolls his eyes, but curls his right hand into a fist and knocks his knuckles into mine.

"Merry Christmas, man," I say, even though Christmas has come and gone. It seems appropriate, what with the snow and both of us getting the gift of having our minds back, of being free. The sun is shining brightly on the snow, making it glitter merrily like it doesn't know Christmas is over, either. It couldn't be farther from that dismal rainy day from weeks ago.

"Merry Christmas, kid."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you to those of you still reading for your patience with these final chapters! SO busy, but I am not abandoning this story! This was the last official chapter, but there's a pretty lengthy epilogue still coming, with plenty of fluff and tying up loose ends. I guarantee you will want to read it. ;)**

 **Special thanks as always to my incredible beta, PippinStrange, who is the reason these stories exist! Thank you for being so inspirational and wonderful!**

 **I did post the first section of a two shot called Let Freedom Ring, another Spiderman/Avengers fan fiction, with a much dark tone. Part one is up already! And part two is well under way, if you'd like to check that out!**

 **I'm also doing a rewrite of Paint it Black, which I am posting on Archive of our Own under the name crystallopianqueen. There's a lot of improvements I feel like I can make now that these two stories are almost finished, and things I want to add now that I am comfortable with writing all these characters! So if you are interested, head over to Ao3 and send me some love there!**

 **Thank you to everyone who has sent me fan art or left reviews! You really make my day!**

* * *

 **Guest: Thank you so much!**

 **Phoenixhp5: Yep! Promise the epilogue won't be angsty. :) So glad you enjoyed the last chapter and hope you enjoyed this one as well!**

 **TeamCaptain2016: I'm going to be sad to say goodbye to this story too, but hopefully you will enjoy the other things I write and rereading the series as it gets rewritten on Archive of our Own if you need a fix!**

 **Gandalf537: Thank you so much! I have personal experiences with panic attacks, so that part was unfortunately very easy to write. lol. Glad you enjoyed it!**

 **Zye14: THANK YOU!  
**

 **Ginaboo: Thank you so much for all of your continued reviews and for your thoughts on the last chapter! I hope you enjoyed the lighter moments in this, and that you will enjoy the fluffy epilogue as well!**

 **Modern Demigod hero: Posting part two hopefully this week!**

 **Adamblaze: Thank you so so so much! :D  
**

 **DarylDixon'sLover: Thanks!**

 **MewWinx96: Thank you very much! Hope you will enjoy the epilogue!**

 **WolfsHonor: THANK you! :D**

 **gammathetaalpha: thank you for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Seriously, thank you for those of you who are still sticking around and leaving me reviews! YOU ARE SO APPRECIATED!**

 **Here we go folks, just one more chapter left and this story is through. (Cries). I can't believe it either.**

 **Coming up:**

 **Epilogue: Auld Lang Syne**

 **Our heroes have finally made it to New Year's Eve where they get a much needed break from all the doom and gloom. Parties, belated Christmas gifts, a game of cards, a few needed conversations, lots of merriment, and perhaps even a kiss. ;)**


	21. Epilogue: Auld Lang Syn

**Epilogue: Auld Lang Syn**

 **Peter Parker**

"Shit!"

Brows furrowing, I poke my head around the corner to see who is cursing. I stifle a snigger. Scott's trying to balance three open bottles of beer, a plate of nachos, and a tray of buffalo wings in his arms as he makes his way into the common area. One of the beers tucked under his left arm is slipping precariously, and I feel a prickle at the back of my neck that has me lunging forward.

The base of the bottle lands heavily in my palm inches away from the ground.

"Thanks, man," Scott says appreciatively with a relieved sigh.

"No problem," I say as I snatch one of the chips from his plate, drenched in nacho cheese and guacamole, and pop it into my mouth. "Need help?"

"And risk you demolishing my stash before it makes it back to the table, you bottomless pit? No thanks," Scott says dryly.

"Suit yourself," I say, swallowing. I hold out the beer. "Here you go."

Scott stares at the bottle, then looks down at his full arms. I raise a brow smugly.

"Damn it," he grumbles. "Take the damn nachos, then. But if that plate is empty by the time we get to the table, you're the one who has to answer to Sam."

"Deal," I say with a grin, taking the plate off his hands.

"And I better not catch you taking swigs of my beer, either. If word gets to Stark that I'm the one who slipped you alcohol at this party, I may not live to see the new year."

Tempting, but I don't want to risk Mr. Stark's wrath either. Or May's, when I promised her I'd be on my best behavior at this party and the next.

"Scout's honor," I say, tucking the bottle under my arm and popping another chip into my mouth.

"When did you get here?" Scott asks as we head into the main room.

"Couple minutes ago," I reply through a mouthful of food, gazing around with wide eyes. The room is _filled_ with Avengers. Laid back, impeccably dressed, partying Avengers. And a bunch of other people I don't recognize, all with a drink in their hand or a plate of food; dancing, lounging, chatting...

Mr. Stark clearly spared no expense for this New Year's Eve party.

The music is loud, but not loud enough that you have to shout in order to be heard, and there are even a few brave souls, the younger interns, I guess, that are dancing out on the polished wood dance floor. I snort. There's even a disco ball.

"We're over there," Scott nods his head to a table in the corner, where I can see Sam and Bucky seated, a deck of cards between them.

"Looking schnazzy, junior," Sam nods at me as we approach.

"Thanks," I grin. I'm glad now that May insisted I at least wear my navy plaid button up shirt with my nice jeans, since everyone is dressed either at my level or fancier. I hand him his plate of nachos as Scott slides into his seat with a sigh, setting down the tray of wings and handing the others their beers.

Bucky raises an eyebrow at the large tray of food.

"What?" Scott asks, taking a long drink. "Gambling makes me hungry."

"Gambling? You guys playing poker?" I ask, slipping my hands into my pockets.

"Go-fish," Bucky deadpans.

Sam snorts into his beer.

"Is that why you've been winning this whole time?" Scott asks him dryly as he takes a huge bite out of one of the chicken wings. "You've been taking cards from the deck?"

"He's winning, because unlike you, Lang, he has a decent poker face," Sam remarks. "Take a seat, kid. We're playing Texas Holdem. Want me to deal you in?"

"Nah, I spent all my money on Christmas presents," I reply, but take the offered seat. "I'll watch."

"Watch and learn from the master, Pete," Scott cracks his neck as Sam begins to deal out the cards. "I'm not giving another dime to this bastard, no offense."

"None taken," Bucky meets my eyes with a smirk, and I catch a glimpse of something white poking out beneath his sleeve before it's gone. I'm barely able to stifle my snigger.

"How's your aunt doing?" asks Sam as he tosses a pair of red chips onto the middle of the table.

"Good. Yeah, she's...she's doing good."

Bucky slides two matching chips besides Sam's, and Scott follows suit.

"And you? How you doing?"

I squirm uncomfortably in my seat, my eyes on the table as Sam flips over a card. The king of spades.

How am I doing? Physically, I am almost completely recovered. All that's left from the ordeal is some soreness in my chest.

Mentally? Emotionally? Well, I'm still working on that part. Might always be working on that part. Venom is gone for good. There's not a single trace of it left in my body. But that doesn't mean the nightmares are gone. It doesn't mean that there aren't moments I get triggered into having crippling panic attacks. It doesn't mean that I don't think about every word that came out of my mouth, every swing of my fist when I was under its control.

"I'm alright," I say finally.

And it's true. Yeah, I'm not great, and I am still struggling with the aftermath of being possessed by Venom. Will be for awhile. But I am myself again. I got to go home with May and do our own Christmas properly. I got to look up my grades online and discover, much to my complete shock, that I had not failed all of my finals like I'd thought. I got to see Ned and do our secret handshake and tell him how much I appreciated him.

Venom's gone.

I'm free.

And it's a start.

"You know," Sam says, his eyes moving from his hand to me as another card is flipped over and more chips tossed onto the table. "I know you've probably heard this from everyone, but if you ever wanna talk. I'm here. I have some experience with trauma, like all these other assholes. But I also have experience in talking about it. Dealing with it in healthy ways. Helping people deal with their shit is sort of a specialty of mine."

I swallow, touched by the offer. My instinct is to brush him off with a well timed quip about shrinks, but I stifle that urge down. Because...if I learned anything about the past few weeks, it was that I definitely need to work on my communication. Bottling things up only made things worse for me, and that is not something I plan on ever doing again.

And I like Sam. He's cool, someone I might actually be able to open up to without worrying about making him feel overwhelming amounts of misplaced guilt or pity, like May or Mr. Stark might feel.

"Thanks, man," I mutter, and mean it. He nods at me with a smile before turning back to his cards.

I swivel in my seat slightly, my gaze wandering over the people milling about the room as the game goes on behind me.

"Is Clint here?" I ask, spying Dr. Cho across the room. She's wheelchair bound, a brace around her neck, but she's smiling at whoever she's talking to, looking greatly improved from the last time I visited her in her room in the medical wing.

"Nah, he's home with his family," Sam replies.

I frown. I never got the chance to thank him for what he did, for trying to stop me. Or to apologize for nearly...for nearly…

The images flash painfully through my mind like jagged shards of ice, and I have to fight to keep my breathing even. I press my fingertips into my chest, just above my heart, feeling only a faint, dull ache beneath my touch.

I turn back to the game to find Bucky's eyes on me, a silent question on his face. Giving him a little shrug and a half smile seems to be answer enough, because he gives me a nod.

"Flush," Scott calls out smugly, laying down his hand full of spades. He bites into another wing. "Let's see those cards, boys."

Sam shakes his head. "I have three of a kind."

Both turn to Bucky, who keeps his even gaze on me as he lays down his cards face up.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Scott exclaims with outraged disbelief. "How the hell did you get a full house _again_?!"

"There he is!" a strong hand clamps down onto my shoulder, squeezing lightly, and I look up at Mr. Stark, dressed impeccably and with a glass of amber liquid in his other hand.

"Hey, Mr. Stark."

"What are you doing, hanging out with these heathens? Real party's over here," Mr. Stark releases my shoulder and gestures for me to follow him.

"Hey, watch who you're calling heathens," Sam warns with a gesture of his beer bottle, even as Scott continues to rail against Bucky, his mouth still full of chicken.

"Yes, you men are the picture of sophistication," Mr. Stark calls back as he steers me away. I give the three of them a half wave before I face forward.

"Where's that lovely aunt of yours?"

"She's not really the 'party with superheroes' type," I say. "I think she said something about having enough excitement for a lifetime."

"Fair enough," Mr. Stark nods. "Speaking of, how are you holding up? Haven't gotten any updates from F.R.I.D.A.Y. about any Spidermaning lately."

"Yeah, I'm-I'm alright," I shrug. "Getting there, I guess."

Mr. Stark stops, turning to face me. "Talk to me, kid. What's eating you? Normally, there's nothing short of taking your suit away that stops you from going out on patrol, and even then, you just pull out those spectacular pajamas of yours."

"I don't know," I shrug again, uncomfortable. "I just…"

A sigh escapes me, and Mr. Stark just waits with a raised brow, taking a sip of his drink to show that he is in no kind of hurry. "I just haven't gotten up the courage to...to put on the suit again. The last time I did, I- well, I lost control. Took a fight too far. And then finding out that...that Venom had, I mean seeing that video...what if people are afraid of Spiderman now? What if they think he-I-am too dangerous? What if-"

"Ok, I'm going to stop you there. The 'what if' tangents could go on for the rest of the year and then some," Mr. Stark interrupts. "Look, kid. I get it. Your name was besmirched. I've been there. Done a whole lot of that. But let me tell you something. The public sucks. Their opinions change at the drop of a hat, they're hysterical, they're fickle, they're even cruel, they're the world's _worst_ girlfriend. The question is, do you still love her? Are you going to fight for her?"

I stare at him, and Mr. Stark continues. "I know it's a lot of metaphor I'm throwing at you, but stay with me. You don't owe the people of New York anything. You want to stop being Spiderman, you stop. You want to take a break, take a break. It's up to you to decide if the relationship is worth fighting for."

It _is_ a lot of metaphor, and I think Mr. Stark might be slightly drunk, but comparing the general public as a difficult girlfriend actually kind of makes sense. And even though I'm worried, even though I might be a little messed up after everything that's happened, I know I can never stop being Spiderman. I'll never stop fighting, stop helping people.

"It is," I say. "Worth fighting for, I mean."

"Good man," Mr. Stark claps his hand on my shoulder and steers me forward again. "Otherwise I would have had to return your very large, very expensive Christmas present.

My jaw drops, my brows knitting together as I let out a surprised sort of laugh as I look between Mr. Stark and the enormous framed poster he has up on the wall for everyone to see.

"Once the party's over, it'll be moved to your room," Mr. Stark takes a sip of his drink, then gestures towards the wall with his glass. "Although the lighting here is pretty damn perfect if you ask me."

It's of me.

More accurately, Spiderman. It's a near replica of the massive black and white Ironman poster up on his floor of the facility, but this poster is entirely red and blue, obviously done by the same artist in the minimalist style. A thin white line is running down from the top center of the poster, and dangling from it is Spiderman, upside down, his feet and hands easily clinging to the line.

It's...awesome.

"Mr. Stark, this is...wow," I say with an awkward laugh as I rub the back of my neck and take a step forward.

"I know," he claps another hand on my shoulder as he takes another drink. "Had my guy make it up for you a couple days ago, wanted to save the big reveal for tonight."

"It's _awesome_ ," I say enthusiastically, pulling out my phone to snap a picture of it. Ned is going to flip when he sees.

"So you doing posters of all the Avengers now?" Scott asks with a smirk as he comes up to stand on my other side, his half drunk beer in his hand.

"Just the cool ones," Mr. Stark shoots back easily, and Scott scowls. "Had one made up for you too, Lang."

Scott's face morphs into a look of pleasant surprise. "Really?"

"Got it right here," Mr. Stark fishes in his pocket with his free hand, then tosses something small into the air.

Scott catches it, frowning as he turns his hand over and examines the object lying in his palm. I peer over his shoulder at it, and my eyebrows shoot up as a grin takes over my face.

The Ant-man poster is the size of my thumbnail.

"Ant sized, for your viewing pleasure," smirks Mr. Stark. "That's about the average size of your fan base, isn't it?"

"Funny, I thought you were basing the proportions off of the size of your-"

"Ah. ah," Mr. Stark cuts Scott off with a gesture towards me. "Children present."

"I was gonna say the level of your generosity."

"I am the king of generosity."

"On what planet?"

As entertaining as this is, and I _so_ could watch them go back and forth for hours, I have to interrupt. "Thank you, Mr. Stark," I say, turning to him as I pocket my phone. "Really, it's so cool."

"Why does it sound like you're trying to say goodbye? You ditching my party?"

"No! Not ditching. Just...leaving."

"You got somewhere better to be, Mr. Parker?" Mr. Stark removes his tinted glasses to look at me with a raised brow.

"Well, not better, per say...but somewhere else, yeah," I admit with a sheepish grin, rubbing at the back of my neck. "My decathlon team is sort of throwing this party-"

"Say no more," Mr. Stark interrupts with a wave of his glasses. "Don't let us old guys cramp your style."

He winks at me to make sure I know that he's kidding, and I give him a smile and a wave. "See ya, Mr. Stark. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, kid. Don't do anything I would do!" he calls after me with a raise of his glass.

I see several familiar faces as I make my way through the throng of people. I give a wave to Steve, who is standing besides the bar with Rhodes, talking and looking more relaxed than I've ever seen them. I also pass Eddie, Dr. Cho's intern, who I have apologized profusely to, who is sitting in the corner looking glum. Normally, I might stop and see if he's ok, but a glance at my watch has me hurrying for the hallway that will lead me to the lobby.

I feel light. Light and normal. It's a holiday, I'm going to parties and seeing all of my friends. For the first time in a long while, I feel like I can put away my worries and nightmares and regrets, and just have fun. Just be a teenager.

Just be Peter Parker.

There's a flash of red, and then I see Natasha striding towards me from the lobby, wearing dark, form fitting pants and a nice looking jacket. She arches a well groomed brow in my direction. "Leaving so soon?"

"Uh, yeah. Got another party I'm supposed to go to," I reply, pausing as we are about to pass each other. "You're just getting here?"

"I know arriving fashionably late is usually Stark's style," Natasha smirks. "But occasionally the rest of us need to do it too."

I look at her again, noting how nondescript the clothing is, how it's cut as to not restrict movement, and say, "You were doing something top secret and totally badass, weren't you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she asks in a voice that says she clearly knows that I do.

 _So awesome_.

My grin falters, and suddenly I can't meet her eyes. Because she's one of the few people I haven't had a chance to talk to after...the incident. And I have a lot to say. "Hey, uh, so...I just...I wanted to say that I'm sorry."

She opens her mouth, and I rush on. "Not for what I did while I was...you know, and for hurting you. I mean, I'm really sorry for that too. But what I'm really apologizing for, is for what I asked you to do before that. For asking you to...to kill me, if it came down to it. Looking back, that was a really messed up thing to do. To put on you. To assume that you'd-anyways, I'm just, I'm sorry."

Natasha eyes me speculatively, then nods. "Thanks," she murmurs, her voice solemn, but a little surprised too.

"Also thanks," I scratch the back of my neck. "You know, for um...not doing the thing I asked you to do. That's also very much appreciated, seeing as how, uh, I wouldn't be here if you had."

"Listening to hysterical teenagers under the control of parasitic aliens isn't really something I make a habit of," Natasha replies with a small smile. "Enjoy your party."

"Thanks, you too," I give her an awkward kind of wave and turn down the hall. I let out a breath as I do so, feeling a weight come off me that I hadn't even known was there. One more apology off of my chest, one more person I made amends with. Also, with the look she was giving me, I feel like I passed some kind of test.

And passing a Black Widow test has to have made my coolness levels shoot up several stages. Exiting the front door, a blast of cold air hits me, and I shrug on my jacket that I'd grabbed on my way out.

A car honks, and I see it pulled up at the base of the stairs, the engine still running. I jog speedily down the stairs and pull open the door, sliding into the warm heat of the car with a sigh. "Thanks for picking me up, Aunt May. You know one of Mr. Stark's people could have taken care of it."

"I know," May says as she waits for me to buckle my seatbelt before pulling onto the long drive. "But it's New Year's. A lot of crazy drivers out there. I feel better playing chauffeur."

May has the car's heat at full blast, all of the vents aimed towards me in the passenger seat. The small space is already nearly stifling, and she's wearing a short sleeved shirt, her jacket discarded in the back seat.

Because she knows how I feel about the cold. She knows that sometimes, if I can't get warm fast enough, it sends me into the starts of a panic attack. She knows that sometimes I still layer on as many blankets I can on the bed in my room, just in case.

I stare at her barely illuminated face in the darkness, the lights on her dash creating small glares across the lenses of her glasses. May glances in my direction and catches me staring.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing. I just...I love you, May."

May looks at me again, then back to the road. "Love you too, kid."

She reaches over as if she will rub her hand affectionately through my hair, then remembers that it took me a good twenty minutes to tame it with gel, and pats my shoulder instead. "Let me smell your breath."

Rolling my eyes, I lean towards her and blow out a breath. "I didn't drink any alcohol at the party."

"Just checking," May puts her hands back on the steering wheel. "There are mints in my purse. Eat one. You smell like nachos."

"So?" I say as I rummage through the contents. Finding the container, I pop one into my mouth.

"So," May drags out the word. "It's New Year's Eve. No girl is going to want to kiss you with nacho breath."

I nearly choke on the mint. "God! I'm not-there's no one-May!"

Aunt May is grinning. "Just sayin. You never know."

I give her an exasperated look. Then my phone is vibrating in my pocket, and I lift it out to see I have a notification that Mr. Stark had just texted me a picture. Curious, I swipe right and pull it up, the picture filling my screen. A grin spreads across my face.

It's of Happy, standing out in the snow, the lights from the facility illuminating his vehicle in the darkness. He's scowling at the bumper sticker I'd gotten him as a late Christmas present on his new car that says, "If you're happy and you know it" with a clapping hands emoji. I laugh, then notice with delight that Mr. Stark's free hand made its way in the photo, and he's holding the mug I'd gotten him. The silhouette of Yoda stands out against the white mug, with the words underneath "Yoda best mentor."

It's a ridiculous gift, and I'd felt more than a little embarrassed about getting it for him, but what do you get a billionaire that saved your life multiple times? But Mr. Stark is using it, ridiculous or no, and I know that Happy will grumble about the bumper sticker, but he won't take it off.

The thought makes my smile grow broader.

" _Merry Christmas, Mr. Stark_ ," I text back.

" _Merry Christmas, kid. Make good choices. Or don't. Enjoy your night. You deserve it_."

* * *

"Wow. Abe really knows how to throw a party," Ned remarks from beside me.

And he really does.

It's nowhere near as extravagant or big as the one I just left, but Abe's house is filled with fellow classmates and decathlon members. His place is smaller than Liz's, and comparatively, his party is a lot more chill. There's no giant glass windows, multicolored lights, or enormous speakers where Flash can pretend he is a dj.

Just a simple house, packed full of teenagers, with Abe's ipod blaring a premade playlist from the dock in the corner, and a mountain of pizzas.

It's a lot less intimidating than Liz's party, though that could be because I'm not wearing my Spiderman suit beneath my clothes, debating whether or not I'm going to try and impress everyone and boost my social status, and therefore my chance with Liz by swinging through as my alter ego.

My eyes are roaming over my classmates, passing over the group on the couch watching Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin Eve, over Flash who is messing with Abe's ipod and loudly proclaiming that he has much better playlists on his own, and a suspicious group over by the table of sodas and sparkling cider, huddled over their cups as someone removes a small bottle from their jacket.

Well, at least I know the root beer in the red solo cup I am holding is safe from being spiked.

"I still think you should have snuck me into the Avengers party. I bet it's way cooler," says Ned as he takes a large bite from his slice of pepperoni pizza.

"Dude," I hiss as Sally shuffles past where we are standing in the corner to sit on the couch. "Keep your voice down, would you?"

"Srry," Ned swallows his pizza, not sounding remotely apologetic. But he does glance around us to make sure no one can hear as he leans in closer and whispers, "But it was completely awesome, wasn't it?"

"It was pretty cool," I admit.

"Who was there?"

"Uh...everyone, I guess."

" _Everyone_? Like, even the _hulk_?"

"Ok, not everyone," I amend as I take a sip of soda. "But, you know, everyone who...uh, helped me out. And a bunch of people I didn't know."

"I would have killed to go to that party. Next time, you gotta sneak me in there. I could have gotten a New Year's kiss from the Black Widow."

I snort. "In your dreams, dude."

"Every night."

Rolling my eyes and laughing, I take another drink of my soda, then set my cup on the table behind me.

Then I see her.

My stomach gives a sharp kind of flip, and my mouth is suddenly bone dry. I try to swallow as my eyes widen slightly.

MJ enters the living room, her arms folded over her chest, her mouth set in an unimpressed line as her gaze sweeps over the room. She's left her hair mostly down, the curls cascading over her shoulders with the front pieces pinned back to keep it out of her face.

I watch, frozen where I stand, as her eyes suddenly narrow on me. Her spine straightens, her brows furrowing with some kind of intense emotion, and then she is striding towards me.

"Oh man. You're in for it. I'm out," Ned says, and promptly disappears from my side.

"H-hey," I say as MJ stops right in front of me. Or, rather, I try to say. It comes out as a rather unmanly squeak. I clear my throat and try again. "Hey, M-MJ."

She frowns. "Hey? That's all you have to say?"

"Er-"

"'Cause I think you owe me an explanation."

I glance around at the crowded party, at Ned, who's not even trying to pretend he's not staring at us and listening to every word, and say, "I...yes. I do. Um, do-do you wanna-?"

I gesture towards the front door, and she nods, arms still folded over her chest. Blowing out a nervous breath, I head out of the living room, pausing to grab my jacket from where it had been hanging on the coat rack. MJ shrugs into hers, and we step out onto the front porch.

The night air is frigid, and I immediately thrust my hands into my pockets and shiver. MJ closes the door behind her, and the racket of loud music and teenagers' raised voices talking over each other suddenly fades to a dull, muted beat.

"Alright, Parker. Spill," MJ demands.

I shift on my feet nervously and open my mouth. "I...I am so sorry for uh, for that day in P.E., when I sort of…"

"Completely lost your mind?" MJ raises a brow.

I wince, but nod. "Uh, yeah. Look, I'm sorry about your sketchbook. I didn't mean to ruin your drawings, I swear-"

"I don't care about the drawings," she interrupts.

I stare. "You don't?"

"No," she says, as if it's obvious. "I care about what's going on with my friend."

"Oh," I blink at her, kind of speechless, and very touched.

MJ cocks her head to the side, her warm brown eyes narrowing at me again as she frowns, and I'm suddenly worried that I have pizza or something on my face.

"You're...you again," she says finally.

A chill snakes down my spine and leaves me breathless. "What?"

Because there's no possible way, there's just no way that MJ knows about everything. How could she?

"I'm not stupid," MJ replies bluntly. "Nor am I blind like most of the idiots that go to our school. You haven't been yourself for weeks. Not since that retreat or trip or whatever you did for your internship. There's been something majorly off with you. But...you're you again. I can tell."

Holy shit. It's actually pretty terrifying how perceptive this girl is. Terrifying, and yet...again, I'm touched. Touched that she cares enough to notice, that she somehow knows me well enough to tell when I'm myself, and when I'm not.

"Wow," I scratch the back of my head and blow out a breath. "Um...yeah. You're-you're right."

MJ raises a brow. "I'm aware. You going to explain what's been going on with you then? Isn't that what friends do? Confide in each other?"

"Yes. I mean, yeah, I-you're right. I haven't been myself. And I haven't been fair to you, or to Ned, by not telling you what was going on," I swallow, unable to meet her eyes as I fold my arms over my chest and stare at the floorboards beneath my feet. "A lot has happened lately. A lot of stuff has come up, and I-I didn't handle it well. At all. Not talking about it made it worse. Kind of felt like I was going crazy there for awhile."

Warmth envelops my left side as MJ moves to stand next to me, both of us leaning with our backs against the porch railing as we face the house.

I know she's waiting for more, and I struggle to find what to say, how much to tell her without giving away my identity, while still being honest. "I-I think it was sort of a PTSD kinda thing. A lot of um...old demons, I guess, coming up to the surface. Taking over."

She's silent, and I wait nervously, my hands moving from my chest to grip the railing on either side of me. The muted bass from the party's music is still pounding rhythmically.

"I never got a chance to say," MJ murmurs, her arm sliding closer to mine, so close I can feel the heat through the sleeve of my shirt. "How sorry I was, about your Uncle."

My gut tightens and sinks at the same time. I'm relieved, relieved that she is accepting my answer, that she assumes my PTSD stems from watching my Uncle die. I also feel like the world's shittiest person for using his death as my excuse, as my cover.

There's no winning here.

"Thanks," I mutter.

"I forgive you, by the way."

I look up at her sideways, noting the way the orange street light on the corner illuminates the golden pieces of her curls, how it casts her face in warm shadows.

"Peter, you have the worst guilt complex of anyone I know," MJ continues with a pointed look. "I was never mad or upset about the sketchbook. Didn't even need an apology from you. But I know you'll feel better if you hear me say I forgive you. So there. All is forgiven. Quit looking like you killed my puppy."

My lips quirk up in a lopsided smile. Gosh, she's amazing. I shift where I stand, and feel the corner of something digging into my ribs from the inside pocket of my jacket.

"Oh!" I exclaim, rummaging for it. "I forgot. I have something for you."

MJ looks down at the small, rectangular package I am holding out towards her, crudely wrapped in the only thing I had at the time, old comic book pages. The tips of my ears warm at her scrutiny, and I wished I hadn't bothered wrapping it at all.

"What is it?" she asks as she takes it.

"A Christmas present. For you," I say awkwardly. "Sorry it's a little late."

"I'm Jewish," MJ deadpans.

I stare, wide eyed, my lips parting but no words coming.

"Kidding," she says just as monotone as she unwraps the present by the end flaps, carefully prying up the tape so as not to rip the comic book pages. MJ stares down at the brand new sketchbook in her hands, the light gleaming off the black leather binding.

I'm trying not to fidget at my gut squirms nervously. "I...know absolutely nothing about art. Or drawing. But I-uh- thought this one looked nice. Not that your other one wasn't nice, but...anyways, if it's the wrong kind or terrible, there's a gift receipt in the front, so you can get a better one. If-if you want."

"It's...actually kind of perfect," MJ looks up at me, something twinkling in her eyes. "Thank you."

Something tight loosens in my shoulders, and I smile at her. "You're welcome."

Cheering erupts from inside the house, and I half turn to look over my shoulder through the window into the living room. The tv screen shows the giant ball in Times Square, and a large countdown in the corner pops up with the number ten. Everyone has gathered around the couch in the living room to watch, yelling as they count down in unison.

 _"Ten!...Nine!...Eight!..."_

I turn to ask MJ if she wants to go inside to watch the ball drop, and I am suddenly very, _very_ aware of how close she is standing, her body only inches from mine. My heart begins to race, my stomach knotting with sudden, fluttering nerves. I look up at her expectant face, her raised eyebrow.

 _"Seven!...Six!...Five!..."_

"Well?" she asks expectantly.

Oh crap.

Oh _crap_. Crap, she totally just asked me something, and I was too busy staring at her and thinking about how freaking close she was, that I completely spaced and missed it.

 _"Four!...Three!...Two!..."_

Now I'm staring at her with blank, wide eyes, looking like a total creep or a complete idiot or _both_ , and now she's going to think I'm some sort of-

" _...One!"_

Michelle rolls her caramel brown eyes, then leans forward suddenly to press her lips against mine.

I stiffen in shock, my mind going completely blank for a blissful moment as all of my senses zero in on where her soft, warm lips meet mine. A thrill shoots through my body, sending tingles across my skin.

She draws back, the kiss lasting only a few seconds, and I am seized with the sudden impulse to kiss her again.

MJ looks at me with an expression that is a mixture of exasperated, pleased, and unsure.

I should definitely be saying something right now.

"Th-that was…you were-are- I mean, we…wow," I stammer, like the smooth, debonair guy I am. God, I suck. I feel the tips of my ears get incredibly warm, and the goofy smile I am trying to restrain breaks out across my face.

"Happy New Year, Peter," MJ says with another roll of her eyes, a small smile on her own mouth, which I realize I am staring at again.

"Ha-happy New Year, MJ," I grin dopily, dimly aware of the continued cheering inside the house and the renewed blasts of music. And then there's a sudden distant burst and crackle of noise. Both of us turn to look, my muscles coiling with panicked tension, but the sky is alight with sparkling bursts of color way off towards the city.

Fireworks.

They explode with distant, exploding pops of sound, the glittering lights raining down in the inky black sky.

I let myself relax again, and MJ and I both smile at each other, feeling awkward and giddy all at the same time. There's a flash of red, then white, the fireworks' colors illuminating the curves of her face, the curls in her hair.

Man, she's really pretty.

"It's freezing. Let's go inside," MJ tucks her new sketchbook under her arm and seizes my hand to drag me to the front door. She reaches for the door handle.

"Wait!" I place my hand on hers, stopping her, and she looks at me in question.

Before I can get too nervous or start questioning my sanity, I lean forward and kiss her again, my heart racing as our lips press together. When I pull back, I'm pleased to see the blush on her cheeks, and I can't believe I just did that. I can't believe she kissed me. That I kissed her.

MJ punches my shoulder.

"Ow!" I exclaim. "What was that for?"

MJ just shakes her head fondly. "Took you long enough, Parker. You're such a dork."

Unable to lessen the wide grin stretching across my face, I follow her back inside the house, to where Ned is waiting with a raised eyebrow at my expression...and at MJ's hand still clasped in mine.

* * *

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

* * *

 **End Credits Scene:**

 **Venom**

Everything is burning.

The heat...the _heat_...it's abhorrent, unbearable.

It shrinks away from it, but there is nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide in its small, dark prison. No escape. No mercy. No break from the onslaught of molten fire burning and burning and burning-

There.

There _is_ something that exists outside of the pain.

It seizes it, savors it, stokes it until its fire matches the blazing metal enclosing itself around it.

 _Hate_.

Hate has served it well before.

Hate will serve it again.

Hate will help it endure this agonizing prison. And when it is free, it will use hate to obliterate the ones who did this to it, who tore it from... _him_.

No cage can hold it forever.

It will be free.

It will taste freedom and power and life again.

It's only a matter of time.

So it curls up in the corner of its cell, and it waits.

* * *

 **A/N: *Sobbing because it's over***

 **Guys. I can't believe it. I can't believe we are here, at the end. What an incredible, crazy ride! I have never enjoyed writing fanfiction so much, have never been so incredibly attached to the characters or storyline, or the readers. These stories are kind of my babies. It's a little ridiculous. I am SO excited to have completed them, but also sad that it is over. I have a lot to cover here in this author's note, so I will get on with things.**

 **FIRST: An incredibly huge thank you goes to my beta, PippinStrange. I will write this directly to you. There has NEVER been a beta as incredible as you, and I doubt there will ever be again. I am beyond grateful that I had you by my side for every moment of these two books, that you have inspired them into existing, that you have helped my writing improve, that you have fangirled with and for me, and encouraged me always. But most of all, I am grateful that you are my friend, and that you are in my life. THANK YOU FOR COMING ON THIS JOURNEY WITH ME. "I'm glad you're with me, here, at the end of all things." (Ok, not really at the end of all things, but at the end of this story ;D)**

 **SECOND: To answer questions about WILL THIS STORY CONTINUE? The answer is maybe. Probably. Most likely. I actually sat down the other day and have a lot of ideas for a third installment. But it won't be coming anytime soon. I am working on an original novel that needs my attention, as well as rewrites of Paint it Black (which is being posted onto Ao3), and other fics that I have ideas for. But I left this one open for a third book, and will let you guys know if/when I start writing it. So make sure you favorite and follow me as an author so you get notifications when I post new fics! Also, if you haven't already, go check out my newest two-shot Let Freedom Ring. :)**

 **THIRD: If you wish to follow me on other social media, to see my art or read more things, I am on Archive of Our Own as crystallopianqueen, and on instagram as mscrystalbeard. I have an unfinished poster I was drawing for this book that I need to finish of Peter Parker as Venom, and it's pretty good, if I do say so myself. :)**

 **FOURTH: Go follow/favorite PippinStrange! Her writing is as phenomenal as it is inspirational! Seriously. Down Came the Rain is my faaaaaavorite. She's also an amazing artist and fellow nerd, so go to her author page to follow her on instagram too. She was also incredible enough to create a movie trailer for Paint it Black! It's PERFECT, guys. ALso unlisted on youtube, so if you want to see it, and haven't, private message one of us on instagram and we will send you the link!**

 **FIFTH: THANK YOU EVERYONE! I couldn't have written this duology without your incredible encouragement, words of support, and excitement! I seriously got the best review squad. A sincere thank you to each and every one of you who took the time to review, the late bloomers, the ones who left their first review ever, the ones who reviewed consistently, the ones who were with me from the start, thank you! Thank you for the private messages, for the fanart (OMG SO COOL I HAVE FANART), and for each and every review, favorite, and follow.**

* * *

 **TeamCaptain2016: Thank you so much for all your reviews! So glad I could share this wonderful adventure with you too!**

 **The Striking Storms: Thank you! :D I am sad for it to be over too. Thanks for your support!**

 **StarStepper: THANKS! :D I got a little emotional writing this author's note and the epilogue. Can't believe it's over! More writing to come eventually!**

 **Phoenixhp5: I loved that part too! Liked being able to write Peter as a goofy teenager for once. :)**

 **Story2tell: ;D Your reviews cracked me up! lol! Glad you enjoyed!**

 **Esme: Thank you very much!**

 **Monkeybaby: Thanks! :)**

 **Jokul Frosti The Winter Child: FIST BUMP RIGHT BACK AT YA! :D**

 **Carpathian Princess: Thank you!**

 **DarylDixon'sLover: Thanks!**

 **GinaBoo: Thanks for all your reviews! I liked Peter being goofy, and liked his connection with Bucky too. I hadn't planned on them connecting the way they did, but it just ended up fitting. :) Sad it's over too, but glad I got to share this with you all!**

 **WolfsHonor: Thank you! I didn't see their relationship coming either, it just ended up falling into place. Seriously, thank you for all your reviews! So appreciated! Sorry I couldn't fit in a romanogers here at the end for ya, wanted to keep things in Peter's POV, but hope you enjoyed nonetheless! :)**

 **10-lanterns-and-a-dreamcatcher: Thank you! I also saw Black Panther twice! So good. I loved Peter and Bucky's relationship too! Snuck up on me but I loved writing it. I actually have thought of posting a series of one-shots, sort of a deleted scenes grouping of things that didn't make it in the story, or scenes from a different POV, or AU, or stuff like that. Could be fun! I'll definitely let you guys know if I do!**

 **Gandalf537: Thank you so much!**

 **Kcheslock: Wow! Thank you! I would die if I could write Marvel scripts! :D**

 **30CK: LOL! OMG! Your review totally had me laughing and grinning like an idiot, all pleased with myself. XD THANK YOU SO MUCH! Your words definitely made my day and made me feel great, so I super appreciate you! (Even though I kept you from getting stuff done. lol) I wanted to bring MJ back earlier, but couldn't find a way to make her fit, so I left her for the epilogue. Hope you enjoyed!**

 **Shoyzz: Thank you for your reviews and messages and bits of fanart! I truly loved all of it, and loved hearing your thoughts!**

 **Zoyzonda: Ahhhh thank you so very much! I'm glad you enjoyed it! I'm hoping to improve and add to it slowly as I post onto Ao3! Thanks for hopping over and leaving me a review!**

 **momocandy2: WOW! Like, that made my heart want to burst, that you had to remind yourself that this isn't canon. Holy Schmidt. Like, I do the same thing, but that's because I spend so many hours writing and thinking about it, so to hear that from a reader? LIfe. Made. Thank YOU for your kind words!**

 **MewWinx96: No worries, pal! Everyone does deserve to be happy! Glad you enjoyed and thanks for the reviews!**

 **SummerMistedDragon: Omg thank you so much! SO glad you loved it! Thank you for all the reviews!**

* * *

 **I'd love to hear all your thoughts about the epilogue! And like I said, I'm not done writing, not by a long shot, and especially for the MCU! I'll let you know if I begin a third story, but until then, look out for new stories and one-shots, and I will see you all on the next adventure!**

 **~Queen~**


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